


Phantom Dragon

by MostTulip



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 81,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostTulip/pseuds/MostTulip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Sack of King's Landing, Rhaenys was saved by a mysterious man with incredible abilities. Now, she must use his skills to take back what is rightfully hers and put an end to the War of Five Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Rhaenys ran as fast as she could to her father's room. Her mother's screams echoed down the hall as the Mountain That Rides had his way. Once she had heard the clashing of steel, she'd tried to reach her brother's room. There she found her mother and brother as well as a group of Lannister men. She had seen the Mountain bash Aegon's head against a wall. Then he had grabbed her mother and forced her onto the floor. Rhaenys had run away at the moment, not wanting to watch as her mother was violated.

Finally reaching her father's room, she hurried inside and closed the door. Desperately, she looked for someplace to hide. She could hide under the bed, but surely that's where they would look for her first. But she had no time to think of somewhere better as the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard from outside. Moving as fast as her small legs would let her, she slid under the bed. And she made it just in time, as the door slammed open and someone stomped in.

From under the bed, she could only see his feet. Without wanting to alert him to her presence, the little princess did everything in her power to remain still. She even held her breath.

After waiting for what felt like eternity, Rhaenys realized she couldn't see the man anymore. She sighed in relief. Almost as quickly as she let her air out, that sigh turned into a scream. Rough hands grabbed her legs and pulled her out from under Rhaegar's bed. She prayed it was her father, that he had come back and found her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't true.

The man who had grabbed her was by no means her father. Rhaegar was handsome and gave off a feeling of comfort. This man was perhaps the ugliest she had ever seen. His face sent fear crawling down her spine. He was truly frightening.

He chuckled at the fear clearly painted on her face. "What's wrong, little girl? Isn't Daddy here to protect you?"

She screamed in reply; that only made him laugh more. "Well, that's too bad. The singers would be singing about how I, Amory Lorch, defeated the great and mighty Rhaegar Targaryen, then killed the little dragonspawn bitch he called his daughter. Oh, how that would have been fun. It's a shame he left for that Stark whore's c-"

Her attacker broke off mid-sentence as a dagger was thrust through his throat. He moaned once before falling to the ground, dead.

Where he had been, preparing to kill her now stood another man. The dead man, Amory Lorch, had been frightening. This man couldn't only be described as nightmarish. He was covered from head to toe in black. His shirt was sleeveless and black tattoos twisted all across the pale skin of his arms. A black cloth covered most of his face so only his eyes were visible.

At first, she thought that maybe her father had come back for her. Then she looked into the newcomer's eyes. They were blacker than the night sky, darker than his clothes. Her father's eyes were violet and spoke wisdom beyond his age. This man's eyes were ancient. Again she screamed. She hoped against hope that maybe the Kingsguard would hear and come running to help.

"It's alright. You do not need to be afraid," he said, attempting to soothe her. He put his hand on her arm as a sign of comfort. She shook it off.

"Don't touch me. Father! Ser Jamie! Ser Barristan! Somebody help me! Help!" she screamed at the top of her voice. Tears were streaming down her face.

"It's alright. I'm not your enemy." He continued to speak calmly. Suddenly, a shadow moved in the corner of the room. A man walked out of a shadow that was too small even for her to fit into.

This one's face was completely hidden behind a black cloth. It came over to the man that had killed Lorch and whispered something into his ear.

"Very good. Inform the others. And make sure that there is . . . another Amory Lorch prepared to tell the tale of Princess Rhaenys death." The other man nodded his understanding and slipped back into the shadow he had come from.

"I'm not dead!" she yelled at the shadow.

"Shh, my little princess. It is alright. From this moment on, you will only have two friends, two people you can really trust." The man said to her.

"And who might they be?" she growled, her fear forgotten. Only anger remained.

"Myself and Lord Varys." This he stated simply before taking his dagger and hitting her head with the butt. She collapsed into his waiting arms. He picked her up and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

_Shadowmaster,_  many had called him,  _Devil_. But never – not even when he had served Aegon the Conqueror – had anyone called him savior. Yes, he had waited for thousands of years to return to the world of the living, to prove that he did not to deserve to go to Hell.

He had expected to do many things; rob from the rich here, assassinate this tyrant there. But entering a conspiracy to save his old friend's prosperity by saving a little girl? Never.

Carrying her little body, he made his way to the docks of Lannisport through the shadows. He once again emerged from the shadows at the designated meeting area, where they would wait for Lord Varys. They did not have to wait long.

He came dressed as a sailor. He was covered in dirt and grime, dried sweat visible in his shirt. And yet he still managed to smell of lavender.

"I take it the mission was successful?"

"It was, master."

"No. I am not your master. Not anymore. I may have summoned you and your companions, but it is her you must follow."

"I mean no disrespect, Lord Varys, but isn't she a bit young to be giving a legion of shades to do her will?" he asked. He did not mean to be sarcastic, or insulting, but he did not believe that a little girl – a girl whose family was just murdered – should be ordering them around. He had to follow he who summoned him. In this case, that was Lord Varys. But if Varys commanded him to do as the girl told him to, he must. So long as Varys lived, he would have to follow the Princess.

"For now, only allow her small, uh, services. You will take your bigger commands from me. Once you judge her old enough to lead you, send me a raven. Understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now take a ship north. You will reside in Winterfell for now. Lord Eddard should have her half-brother under his care soon enough."

"Yes, Lord Varys." The shade began to walk away with the princess still in his arms when Varys called him back.

"By all means necessary, protect her, Dalin."


	2. Wolves and Dragons

 

Rhaenys watched from afar as her brother, Jon, practiced his swordsmanship with who he believed to be his half-brother (really his cousin). They were both good. Of course, neither would be any match for her. They fought with honor; no hidden daggers, no poisoned tips, no ally waiting for your opponent to think he had won only to find a sword poking through his stomach. She'd had the best teacher.

Dalin had been with her since the Sack of Kings Landing. He'd saved her from Amory Lorch and for that she was forever grateful. He had been her teacher for many years. Most teachers of highborn lords and ladies would only show you the basics of survival. Dalin wanted her to be prepared for almost any combat situation. He was her mentor but he was also her closest friend.

She smiled as Jon disarmed Robb. He was learning quickly. She was proud of him. Her smile died as she realized that she wasn't the only one watching. Lady Catelyn walked over to the two boys and began scolding Jon.

Rhaenys felt rage boiling inside. She could understand Catelyn's anger over believing her husband had fathered a bastard. But she hated that Catelyn blamed Jon for it. He was only seven years old. He barely understood what being a bastard meant. At least, most children shouldn't understand what a bastard was at this age.

Dalin had spies in the shadows. The information he gathered could rival that of Lord Varys. Birds and spiders were effective. But there are shadows everywhere. Because of this, she knew of the mistreatment Jon received.

She had often considered confronting Eddard Stark and demanding that Jon be told the truth and that he should come with her. She didn't though. Dalin and Varys may be on her side, but they were not the only spies in Westeros. If word reached Robert Baratheon that Rhaegar's son was living in Winterfell, pretending to be the bastard of the King's best friend, Jon wouldn't live to see his eighth name day.

With a heavy heart, she turned around to return to her chambers in Winterfell. In order for her to watch her brother without hiding, Eddard had agreed to have her return to Winterfell every few years under the guise of Lady Mera, the daughter of a wealthy lord in Essos. Her story was that her father had befriended Lord Stark during Robert's Rebellion. Wanting to give his beloved daughter the chance to meet his best friend and learn her mother's ways, her "father" would send Mera to Winterfell.

During one of her first trips in Braavos while still pretending to be Mera, she had asked Dalin if perhaps she could become a Faceless Man and wreak death and destruction upon her foes that way. Dalin had said that, although a Faceless Man was effective, the way of shadows was even better. Once he had learned of her interest in illusions, he had begun to show her how he could bend the shadows to his will. And she soon discovered that shadows were more effective than just changing your face.

* * *

After walking through the godswood until dark, Rhaenys made her way back to her chambers. In the hallway, she found the door to Jon's room wide open and her brother crying on his bed.

"Jon? Is everything alright?" she asked kindly. Realizing that she had seen him, he desperately tried to wipe away the tears. She walked inside and closed the door. Then she sat down on the bed next to him.

"It's okay to cry. You don't need to pretend to be tough with me," she whispered soothingly. With red eyes and a tear-stained face he gazed up at her and poured his heart out.

He admitted to her how he felt like an outsider, that he would never belong. He spoke of how Lady Catelyn was always trying to bring him down in every way. He also told her of how, even though his father did his best to love him, Ned loved his trueborn children more.

"Oh, sweetie, your father loves you with all his heart." She wasn't lying as she was certain Rhaegar would have loved his son greatly.

"Then why am I still treated like I'm not as important? Why did my mother leave me?" he began to cry into her shoulder as she hugged him. She couldn't bring herself to tell him his mother had died in childbirth.

"I don't know," she told him. Her next words she whispered. She spoke so low, Jon almost didn't hear her.

"Just remember that dragons are not brought down so easily. And neither are wolves."


	3. Winterfell

 

"Viserys and Daenarys are currently in Pentos. He is attempting to get a Dothraki army by marrying his sister to Khal Drogo. Drogo has the largest khalasaar in all the Dothraki Sea," one of Dalin's scouts reported.

 _He truly believes the Iron Throne belongs to him_ , Rhaenys thought. It was said that when a Targaryen was born, the gods flipped a coin. From what the scouts had been telling them lately, Viserys had landed on madness.  _Too bad. He may have been as great as my father._

They had spent the last month in Dorne. Not even her mother's family knew of her existence. They all believed her to be dead. Sometimes she felt guilty for not revealing their existence, but, as if sensing her thoughts, Dalin would always reassure her that there were too many spies and it had nothing to do with the fact that she cared more for her brother's family than her mother's.

She hated it in Dorne. Even though she had never spent too much time in one place, she would frequently visit Winterfell. They spent so much time there that she preferred the cold to the desert.

It has been almost two years since she returned to Winterfell. Her brother would be fifteen. She hoped he had become an even better swordsman than he was two years ago. She missed him greatly. Even if he didn't know she was his half-sister, they still had a strong bond ever since the day she had comforted him when he was seven.

"My queen," one of the scouts said, "Robert Baratheon leaves for Winterfell in three days."

This caught her attention. She knew that Jon Aryn had died not long before and that Robert was looking for a new hand. But after ignoring Ned since the Greyjoy Rebellion and then expecting him to serve as Hand was crazy.

"Good. Inform Dalin that we will be leaving for Winterfell tomorrow morning."

* * *

They arrived a week before the king. They had traveled mostly by shadow. Of course, not wanting to attract unwanted attention, they spent some time on horseback. She was relieved to finally see the walls of Winterfell.

They had not sent any notification ahead of time, so their arrival was a surprise. But Ned welcomed them with open arms and had a small feast thrown in their honor.

Dalin never left her side.

She had expected him to join the others and watch in the shadows, but he preferred to stay with her. "The king is coming," he had told her. "The Lannisters are with him. We don't know if they would rather have Lady Mera alive or dead." And he was right.

She had requested that Jon join them at the feast. Lady Catelyn had unhappily complied. So Rhaenys used the feast to listen to her brother tell her of what had happened since she last visited. He was excited to show her Ghost, his direwolf.

"It is good to talk to someone other than the Starks, Mera. I missed you terribly."

"Aye. I don't have any siblings and all the other sons and daughters of nobles don't like me. You are my only true friend, Jon."

He scoffed. "Surely you are closer to Robb or Sansa? I'm just a bastard."

"Don't think like that. You are more important to me than all of them combined. Yes, they are my friends and I care for them. But you're my bro-," she caught herself before she could say brother, "best friend."

Before he could reply, Ned stood up. All those attending the feast - including Dalin, who was disguised as her "father" - turned as he began to speak.

"Tonight we celebrate a visit from my good friends: Asoad and his daughter, Mera. We hope that you enjoy your stay with us and feel as if you were at your own home."

"Thank you, Ned," Dalin replied, "I do not doubt that you will make us comfortable."

"You may already know this, but King Robert Baratheon plans to be here in a week. Will you stay until then?" To any others, his question may have seemed to just be out of curiosity. Knowing him, Rhaenys could hear what he was really saying.  _The King is coming. Be careful._

Ned didn't need to ask to know that they were staying until Robert came. Jon was at Winterfell. Robert may be an oaf, but he was still in love with Lyanna. If he were to for some reason pay enough attention to Jon and  _really_  look at him, it wouldn't be hard to see Rhaegar in the supposed bastard. The chance of Robert seeing that was slim. But there was still a chance.

For that reason, she didn't even need to look at Dalin. He knew the answer already.

"Yes, we will be staying to meet the King."

No one except herself and his companions had ever known Dalin long enough to read him. Even then, they could just barely read him.

Only they heard the anger in his voice when he called Robert Baratheon the king.


	4. The Royal Party

The King arrived after what felt like an eternity. All Rhaenys had been able to think about was how everything could go wrong. She was afraid. Even worse, it was obvious. Normally she could easily hide her emotions and fake the ones people wanted to see.; laugh when she was angry, smile when she was afraid. But not this time. This time everything was at stake.

It wasn't her life she feared for. From what Dalin had told her, King Robert was fat. He would be slow. If for some reason, he tried to capture and probably kill her, in the time which he used to take one step she would be long gone. However, it more likely that Jon's life would be in danger, not hers.

If they really could figure out that Rhaegar was Jon's father, she doubted she would be able to save everyone that would be killed. Robert wouldn't care that Ned was his oldest friend. Anyone who hid "dragon spawn" was no friend or brother of his.

Everyone just believed that Mera was scared the King wouldn't think her beautiful. Others thought her only care were girly things. Some considered her to be even worse than Sansa. Only the Stark family knew her as she really was while still believing her to be Mera.

Jon had spent most of his time with her. He could see like everyone else that she was afraid. But he knew her better. He could tell that it wasn't her looks that worried her (although that was part of the problem).

They had been walking through the godswood when he thought to find out what her fears were.

"Mera, you said I was your closest friend. You can tell me whatever it is that frightens you."

 _If only it was that simple, my dear brother._ "No. I'm sorry, Jon. This is something that only I can understand."

His face had showed hurt. She knew immediately what he was thinking.

"It is not because you're a bastard that I can't tell you. You know I would never keep something from you because of that. In all honesty, only I can understand this problem and only I can fix it."

He had looked down, ashamed he had even thought like that. The lie had hurt. And not just because Ned understood, but because, for the first time in eight years, she had called him a bastard.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry like that," he said.

"Don't apologize. It is my fault for having these petty fears. But you have to remember Jon," she often wondered if he remembered what she had told him all those years ago in his bed chambers. He had never shown any sign of recognition when she mentioned dragons and wolves in the same sentence. "You must as strong as, not just a wolf, but a-"

"Dragon." confusion was in his eyes, shock in hers.

* * *

They had not really spoken since. Many times she had walked over to his bed chambers at night, prepared to explain using some clever lie, but she never could. Instead she stood there for about an hour until one of Dalin's men, or even Dalin himself, came to bring her back to her own chambers. And every morning, when she could sleep, she would wake up disappointed with herself.

It was under these circumstances that she found herself standing next to Dalin and her brother, waiting for Robert. Every time she thought of what her encounter with him would be like, fear gripped her and she could barely breathe. Her mind would conjure images of what would happen if she failed. It was like the Sack of Kings Landing all over again.

The King entered the courtyard on a horse. All of her fears were forgotten for the few seconds that she first laid eyes on him. She had never met him before that day. Many a time had she heard stories of how he was the fierce warrior that crushed her father with his warhammer. Seeing him, she almost laughed.

Dalin had warned her Robert was fat, but her mentor had failed to elaborate what he meant by "fat." The man was huge. He looked as though he couldn't even lift a sword, much less a warhammer. If he hadn't been wearing a crown and followed by the Kingsguard, she would never have believed the man to be king.

Robert greeted Ned warmly, although Rhaenys did not fail to see how, for a brief moment, Ned seemed shocked that this man was his childhood friend. She did not fail to notice how Robert stared at her for a second before moving on to Lady Catelyn and the Stark children. Neither did Dalin. And for him, a second was one too many. She saw as her moved his hand to behind his back. To everyone else, it would probably appear as preparing to bow when Robert came to them. But she knew him well enough to know that he would be harnessing power to use a devastating attack. And who else to use it on but Robert Baratheon?

Placing her hand on his arm, she whispered low enough for only him to hear, "No."

Dalin nodded in understanding, and let his arm drop to his side. Just in time, for at that moment, Robert walked over to them. He spoke to Dalin first.

"I take it you are Lord Asoad."

"Yes, Your Grace." he dropped down to one knee. She saw the anger in his eyes at addressing Robert as Your Grace.

"Good, good. And this must be your daughter, Lady Mera. You are very beautiful."

She curtsied. "You're too kind, Your Grace."

He smiled at that.  _Let him believe what he wants. I will never bow to this man._  She held her breathe as he walked past Jon, and released it as he only gave her brother a glance before demanding to be taken to the crypts. Cersei protested, and he immediately shut her up. For a moment, Rhaenys felt pity towards the lioness. Then she remembered what Dalin had told her about Cersei and her twin, Jamie. And with that thought, she knew what kind of comfort the Kingslayer would offer his sister that night.

* * *

The feast was long and boring. She would have loved nothing more than to join her brother down where the commoners sat. She sat too far away to speak with the Stark children. Dalin wasn't much company. And the royal party was giving her glances that would have made anyone else uncomfortable.

Jamie Lannister and Robert Baratheon were examining her body as if it were the best piece of meat in the Hall, which she did not doubt was exactly how they saw her. Joffrey was talking with his betrothed - or at least soon-to-be betrothed - Sansa. He would occasionally look in her direction, not quite like his father and step-father, but still inappropriately considering he was to marry Sansa. And Cersei just had a hatred for Rhaenys that she made obvious by ignoring her, and then staring icily in her direction.

The only part that she truly concerned herself with was when all the attention of his table seemed to be on Jon. He quickly walked outside and she saw him trying not to cry. It took her a few minutes before she could go to him. Robert was so busy flirting with servant girls, he didn't notice her until she almost screamed his name.

"Your Grace, I'm sorry we could not speak this evening. I'm very tired and I would like to ask your permission to leave the feast." Dalin had once told her to always make the fools feel powerful. They would let their guard down around her sooner.

"Of course, my girl. I hope we will have time tomorrow. Good night."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Please, call me Robert."

 _So this is how it will be._  "Yes, Your- Robert."

* * *

She found Jon outside. Tyrion Lannister was just walking in when she was coming out.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, my dear. I am Tyrion Lannister."

Curtsying, she answered, "I'm Lord Asoad's daughter, Mera."

"Ah, well, just between you and me, Mera, you should be careful around my sweet sister. She was giving you a rather cold stare earlier."

"Thank you for you advice, Lord Tyrion. I will keep it in mind. Enjoy the feast." without another word, she walked away, following Jon and Ghost. They were wandering the empty yard.

"Jon!" she called out. He jumped at her voice. Turning around and realizing who it was, he smiled. But it was a sad smile. She ran up and wrapped her arm through his.

"What is wrong, my friend? Are the southerners too stupid to be able to talk-"

"I'm joining the Night's Watch." his words were so quick and quiet, she thought she'd misunderstood.

"What?"

"Mera, I'm going to join the Night's Watch."

His words froze her in her tracks. She looked at him incredulously.

"Jon, you can't."

"Why not?" his voice was full of anger.

"Because you have a family."

He laughed. "I don't belong here. Even a bastard can rise high at the Wall."

"Jon, you're family needs you! I need you! Please, don't do this." She had been following him as they continued walking. He stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him. He spun around, anger as well as hatred in his voice as he spoke.

" _You_  need me? You will be leaving for Essos in a few days. You may never return. Yet you would have me wait here, enduring Lady Catelyn's hatred and never becoming anything more than Eddard Stark's bastard?" he walked away, Ghost at his heels. She stopped, realizing nothing she could do at the moment would make it any better.

"The people of Westeros also need you, brother."


	5. Leaving Winterfell

"The boy was pushed, Rhaenys. He didn't fall." Dalin said.

"But who would push him? He's an innocent child. What could possibly be their reason?" Rhaenys asked as she rubbed her eyes. She'd stayed up all night trying to find the reason for Bran's sudden fall. For many hours she had looked into the fire, trying to figure out what had happened. Bran couldn't provide those answers, as he was still asleep. It had been dawn when she had finally let Dalin in to give her his findings.

"There were two people you had not seen all day."

"Jaime and Cersei."

"Bran was climbing all over the tower we found them in. What better reason would they have to make it look like he'd fallen than if they were trying to hide something."

She gasped as realization dawned on her. "You mean . . . ?"

"Yes. He saw them together. If he were to tell anyone, the Lannister name would be ruined and Robert would have both their heads.

It all made sense. Bran had never fallen before. Why would he fall now? He had probably climbed that tower a hundred times. Suddenly she had an idea.

"Dalin, what do you think would happen if the Starks were to find out about this?"

"My queen, you and I both know what they would do. Lord Stark may not be the most bloodthirsty man in Westeros, but anyone that harms his family will invoke his wrath. He already has a dislike for the Lannisters. If he were to discover what Cersei and Jaime have done to make sure no one knows of their love for each other, he would ask Robert for permission to destroy them. And I do not doubt that Robert would say yes."

"And we will use this to our advantage. The North is ours, as is Dorne. Lord Tarly is loyal, and probably many other lords of the Reach."

"That is all fine and well, but there are still many lords who will not bow to a woman. That said, you have two options, my queen: marry a highborn lord's son or-"

"Or convince Jon to join us. I will not be married off to some man I don't even know. My mother and father were married under these circumstances and look what happened. No, if I am to have a king beside me, it will only be Jon."

* * *

 

She watched as the royal party left through the gates of Winterfell. Lord Eddard was leaving as well to be the Hand of the King. Rhaenys could see in his eyes that he did not want this. But he was an honorable man and he would not disobey the so-called King. Sansa and Arya were leaving with him. Sansa was absolutely in love with Joffrey. She was blind to what he really was.

Nobody besides herself and Dalin knew about Bran's fall. She knew that this could potentially destroy the Lannisters. But if Starks were not prepared, it could end tragically.

"Mera." It was Jon. He has come to say goodbye. She had been unable to find the words to tell Jon about his true parentage. How do you tell someone that their whole life has been a lie? Her family had been taken from her. She had had Jon, but she had known the truth since he was a baby. He had believed all his life to be the bastard son of Eddard Stark. Now she - who, in truth, he barely knew - would come and claim that he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, and the heir to the Iron Throne.

"Jon, please, stay here. I'm sure I can convince my father to let me visit more often. Just please, don't go." as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice.

"I don't belong here. I'm not a Stark." just like the night of the feast, he began to walk away. Before she could call him back, someone put a hand on her shoulder. It was Lord Stark.

"Rhaenys, you and I both know he is not ready." She shook his hand off.

"If you have your way, he will never be ready. You would have him believe a lie, never knowing the truth of who he is. His whole life he has believed himself to only be a Snow. But in truth he is a Stark and a Targaryen. This 'bastard' is the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms and its only hope."


	6. Foreboding Dream

There was a man. He was on his knees, head bowed, as if he was praying. He was. A sword came down on his neck, cutting his head from his shoulders. She could see the statue of Baelor a ways away. King's Landing. And the head . . . it took her a second to recognize who it was. _No, no, not him. Not him. Please! Not him._ The head that rolled on the ground was Ned's.

The setting changed. She found herself in a dining hall. It seemed as though there was a thick fog in the room, only enough to barely make out shadows of people and tables. At first, she thought it was Winterfell. But the fog cleared and she couldn't recognize the place. On the walls, a banner hang. The sigil was of two towers connected by a bridge. She couldn't remember whose house that was.

A man sat on a table above all the others. He laughed as he looked down on someone else. She followed his gaze and saw Robb. He was laying on the ground. Arrows pierced his body and there was a hole where his heart should have been.  _Oh Robb._

She watched as his head suddenly turned into that of Greywind's.

A shriek made her look away. Lady Catelyn's hair was white and brittle. Her throat was cut open. A hatred burned in her eyes. "Avenge my son!" She screamed, over and over again.  _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,_ she wanted to say.

Everything changed again. This time, she knew where she was. Never had she been there, but it wasn't hard to guess. The Wall rose into the sky. She couldn't see the end of it. "Ghost." someone murmered. She looked around.

Across the yard, Jon fell into the snow. A man stood above him and stabbed her brother with an already bloody knife.  _No! NO! Not Jon! You have taken everything else from me! Not him!_

* * *

Rhaenys woke up gasping. Looking around wildly, she breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she was in her bed in her chambers at Winterfell. Everything was how it should be. Except it wasn't.

 _Baelor's Sept. I have to go to King's Landing. That is where Ned will be killed. I have to save him._  She started to pack all she would need for the trip to get Ned back.

"Dalin. Dalin!" He appeared a moment later.

"What's wrong?"

"We need to get to King's Landing. Ned is going to die. I have to get him. I can't let them kill him!"

"Rhaenys, listen to me. Who is going to kill Lord Stark?"

"I don't know!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized how little her dream had revealed to her. "I don't know," she continued to murmur as Dalin held her in his arms.

"It's alright, it's alright. We will stop them, whoever they are. We won't let another die."

* * *

Convincing Robb that she had to leave was difficult. She had always been closer to Jon. But Robb had wanted her to stay even after Jon left. He had said that she could help advise him as Lord of Winterfell. He didn't believe he was ready to lead on his own. And even then he still wanted friends close to help him.

Her horse was saddled and ready. Dalin was next to her, making the final preperations for their journey. She heard someone approaching. Turning, she saw Robb walking to her.

"Rhaenys, I'm begging you. Don't leave. I need you're help. I cannot do this on my own." His eyes were pleading.

"I can't Robb. Your father needs me."

"My father is fine. He has men with him that are completely loyal to him. He's safe." The innocence in him made her want to smile.  _Like father, like son._  Ned had been the same when he left. They both believed all men to be honorable. Despite the many years he spent at war, Ned still held on to that hope.

"Oh Robb. You have so much to learn. Neither you or your father know how to play the game of thrones." she touched his cheek.  _He's still just a boy. A boy forced to become a man._

"I'll come back. But for now, your father needs me. Goodbye Robb Stark." he helped her onto her horse.

"Goodbye Lady Mera." She smiled down at him, then moved her horse around and rode out the gates of Winterfell.

* * *

When they came upon the crossroads for King's Landing and the Wall, she headed South without a second thought. The only thing on her mind was saving Ned and bringing him back to Winterfell.

"My queen?" a voice asked behind her. It was Dalin. He urged his horse forward to ride beside her.

"What is it?"

"You said that you saw Ned die in a dream."

"Yes. What of it?" she was growing irriatable. Did it really matter that it had been a dream?

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No, there was . . ." her dream came back to her.  _Ned. Baelor's Sept. Robb. Catelyn. A feast. Jon. The Wall._  She looked back the way they came.  _The Wall. The Wall. The Wall. The Wall._  Almost as quickly as she remembered the dream, she wheeled her horse around and had it break into a run.

"Rhaenys! What are you doing? Rhaenys!" Dalin called. She didn't care. She was heading North. To the Wall. She was going to save her brother.


	7. The Wall

The Wall was desolate and gloomy. It was almost hellish. Rhaenys knew that the Night's Watch was undermanned, but she had not expected it to be practically abandoned. How anyone could spend their whole lives there, she couldn't understand.

But her opinion of it didn't matter. What mattered was that she find her brother and take him away before that man could kill him.  _I pray he hasn't taken his vows yet._

The sound of wood crashing on wood could be heard. With the hood of her cloak pulled up, she made her way towards the sound. Dalin had not quite caught up with her. They needed to keep the horses, so he couldn't just join her through shadow.

On her way to the source of the fighting, she encountered what she assumed to be a new recruit. Of course, why and how he decided to take the black was a different matter. He was very much overweight and looked as though he had never held a sword in his life. Leading him was a tall, grim man. She quickened her pace to join them.

"Excuse me, what are you doing here?" his voice held no kindness, only irritation.

"My name is Lady Mera. I am just visiting the Wall." she smiled at him. He frowned back.

"I am Ser Alliser Thorne." he said no more, just continued to walk. The fat boy followed him. She came up beside him.

"Hello." she said simply.

"H-hello." he seemed afraid of her.

"I'm Mera."

"Samwell Tarly."

"Are you Randyll Tarly's son?"

"Yes." when she mentioned his father's name, he looked sad.

"If he is your father, why are you here?"

"Because I'm a disappointment." She couldn't ask him anymore as they had just entered the training yard. Several men were practicing fighting with wooden swords. She watched as a young man quickly dispatched a group of recruits. They were farther away from her. Her first assumption was that the champion was one of the more experienced black brothers. But as they got closer, she could see the head of dark curls.  _Jon. My brother._

Ser Alliser introduced them to Samwell and immediately ordered one of the recruits to attack him. He didn't last five seconds.

"Yield!" he yelled at his attacker. Yet the man kept hitting him. She was about to step in to help poor Samwell, but Jon saved her the trouble. After being insulted by Ser Alliser, he easily fought them all off and helped Samwell to his feet. They spoke, then her brother left to lay down his armor and sword. She waited for him to return from the armory with Ghost at his heels before she made her presence known. And she didn't even have to do anything. As soon as Ghost caught sight of her, he ran so fast he almost knocked her over.

"Ghost, to me. No Ghost," her brother cried. He hadn't recognized her yet.

"Shh. It's okay Ghost." she whispered to the direwolf. They calmly waited for Jon to join them across the yard.

"I'm sorry, he doesn't usually . . . Mera?" he gaped as he finally saw who she was. Her guess was that it wasn't just seeing her there that surprised him. In all the times she had visited him in Winterfell, she made sure to appear as Ladylike as she could to protect her identity. Now, she was dressed like a man. Furs covered her body, almost hiding the shape of her chest. The hood covered most of her face with shadows and long hair was not uncommon among men. If not for her face and voice, she could have passed for a man.

"Hello Jon." she said, kissing his cheek. He blushed.

"What are you doing here? I thought you would remain at Winterfell or gone back to Essos."

"I came here for you, Jon."

"Me?" he asked, bewildered. The shock was evident on his face. That she had come from all the comforts of Winterfell just to see him at the Wall was astonishing to him. He couldn't imagine anyone caring enough about him doing something like that for him. "Why?"

"Jon, I spoke the truth the night of the feast. I need you. Your family needs you. Please Jon, I'm begging you. Do not do this. Come home." she would have gotten on her knees if she thought that would have made a difference.

"Mera, this is my home. These men are my family now." he sounded sad as he said this to her. His words sent her world crashing down all around her.  _I'm too late. Dammit! I shouldn't have waited. I have lost all I have left._

She turned away from him. "You took your vows already." she whispered.

"No." that single word was enough to make all her exhaustion and despair disappear. It was as if her heart had burned out, and suddenly someone had taken a flame and brought it back to life.

"There is still time. I don't believe it." she practically screamed. In her happiness, she pulled him close and kissed him. It wasn't the kiss she had given him earlier. This was on his lips.

They broke apart, both shocked by what had happened. Rhaenys was probably even more surprised than he. After all, they were brother and sister.  _He's your_ half _-brother,_ a little voice inside her head whispered.

 _I can't. This is exactly what my father -_ our  _father - was fighting against,_ she replied.

 _You're Targaryen. The Targaryens have married brother and sister all throughout history,_ the voice answered.

_We can't._

_You can._

_But he doesn't even know who I am. If he were to find out one day in twenty years, after we've been married, imagine how betrayed and disgusted to know he married his sister and I kept it from him._

_So tell him now._ That they could agree on.

"Jon, there's something I have to tell you before we do anything else." she hoped her fear didn't show. The worry of whether she had inherited the Targaryen madness would have to wait.

"What?" he looked happier. She was sad that look would soon be replaced with anger.

"I know who you mother is."

" _What_?"

"Here. Come inside. I will explain everything in your chambers." Taking his hand, she led him inside.  _To the truth._


	8. Truths

"How do you know my mother?" he asked as soon as the door to her room was closed. Curiosity was written across his face.

"Before I tell you that Jon, what do you know of Robert's Rebellion?"

"Same as everyone else. Why?"

"Just tell me."

"Alright. Rhaegar Targaryen won the Tourney of the Harrenhal and crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty, rather than his wife, Elia of Dorne. Later, Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna and raped her. Robert Baratheon, who was betrothed to Lyanna, grew angry and began to rally his men to get her back. Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing to fight Rhaegar. The Mad King killed him and his father. Robert then declared war on the Targaryens. Rhaegar Targaryen was defeated by Robert Baratheon on the Trident. The Mad King was murdered by Jaime Lannister and the other Targaryens, were killed by Lannister men. My father found Lyanna, dying, in the Tower of Joy." she was saddened by how little emotion he showed when he spoke of their father.

"What happened to Prince Rhaegar's children?" she wanted him to figure it out.

"Aegon's head was bashed against a wall. Rhaenys was stabbed to death. Mera, what does this have to do with my mother?" the annoyance was evident on his face.  _He will know why soon._

"Do not call me Mera. That is not my name."

Now he was truly shocked. "What? Then what is your name?" he asked this slowly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

"Jon, my father died on the Trident. He was killed by Robert Baratheon. He started the war and his death ended it." Realization dawned as he comprehended what she was saying. "Yes. My true name is Rhaenys Targaryen, one of Rhaegar's surviving children."

" _One_? You mean he had more children?"

"He had three children. Aegon and I, and one from his lover. Aegon is dead. But my father's second son still lives on."

"I don't understand. Who was this lover?" she was surprised by his inability to see what she was trying to tell him.

She smiled sadly. "Rhaegar didn't kidnap Lyanna Stark. She left with him because they loved each other."

"What does this have to do with me?" Jon asked.  _He doesn't want to believe Ned isn't his father. The idea of someone else being his father is inconceivable._

 _"_ When Ned rode to the Tower of Joy, he found three Kingsguard outside the room where his sister was kept. Jon, they were there to protect their king. Lyanna was pregnant with Rhaegar's child. That child was a boy. Unfortunately, the childbirth was difficult and Lyanna died.

"Before she died, she made Ned promise to keep her son safe from Robert. He hated anyone with Targaryen blood in them. He had already had my brother killed and a girl who he believed to be me. This child was what he thought to be the product of Rhaegar raping his one true love. His belief was that Lyanna had loved him too. She didn't. He would stop at nothing to kill this babe. So Ned took his sister's child with him. To protect him, Ned claimed the child as his bastard and raised him with his trueborn children." she let that sink in. It didn't take Jon long to understand what she was telling him.

"You mean . . ."

"Yes, Jon. You are not Jon Snow, bastard of Eddard Stark. No, you are Jon Targaryen, first of his name and rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms."

* * *

They left within three days. They explained to Jeor Mormont that, although they couldn't tell him the truth, Jon was needed elsewhere. The Old Bear had let them go on the condition that Jon not forget the Night's Watch. He was gave Jon his family's Valyrian greatsword, Longclaw. The hilt had been re-carved in the shape of a wolf's head, rather than a bear.

As for how her brother was taking it all, well, he had seen better days.

The truth of his parentage was taking a heavy toll on him. He didn't talk with her as much, nor did he laugh when a joke was made. He seemed to be a shell of his former self. She worried that she had broken something inside of him and that he would remain this way forever. But he proved her wrong on their trip back to Winterfell.

They had to stop once at nightfall. Dalin had come to her at Castle Black when he was just outside of Mole's Town. She had told him to stay back, that Jon was not ready to truly meet Dalin. He had obliged. When they had set up their little camp and Jon was sitting by the fire, she finally worked up the courage to try and talk to him about the secret she had revealed.

"Jon . . ."

"Why didn't my father tell me? I deserved to know." he was very angry. His hands were clenched so hard she feared his nails would cut into his skin.

"It was to protect you. If Robert were to ever find out, he would not let you continue to live." she sat down beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. All the fight seemed to go out of him.

"Tell me, how do we really know I am the son of Rhaegar? Maybe you're wrong and I'm just a bastard." she rolled her eyes.  _Of course he would think like that._

"Trust me. As soon as we return to Winterfell, I'll prove it." she smiled at him. He met her eyes, but quickly looked away.  _He's remembering the kiss._ It was a hard thing to forget about. She had trouble not thinking about how it would have been nice to kiss him for just awhile longer.

"So, were you even in King's Landing during the Sack?" he was curious. But he was also being cautious. He could tell that this topic was not very pleasant to remember. Even so, she answered him.

"Sort of. I was there when they killed my mother and our brother. The real Amory Lorch tried to kill me but someone killed him first."

"Who?"

"Well, that's a very complicated part." Standing up, she walked to the edge of the light and called out to the shadows, "Dalin. Please, come here." As soon as she finished speaking, he appeared next to her, shadows dissolving into him. Jon reached for Longclaw.

"No, Jon. It's alright. This is Dalin. Lord Varys summoned him to save and serve me." Dalin bowed to Jon.

"My king, it is nice to meet you under the truth," he said.

"You've met me before?"

"Yes." Before Jon could ask where they had met, Dalin changed in a swirl of shadows to Mera's father.

Her brother gasped in surprise. "Lord Asoad?"

"Yes." Dalin answered simply.

"Who are you?" Rhaenys could see the fear in her brother's eyes. She expected that. She had felt the same when Dalin had saved her.

"I'm not remembered by history. No one alive besides Rhaenys knows who I am. To explain who I was really is too complicated. So I will only tell you that Aegon the Conqueror was my closest friend and I was his." She guessed that Jon noticed for the first time that Dalin's breath could not be seen despite the cold. In fact, he did not appear to breathing at all.

"What are you?" her brother asked as the others who were commanded by Dalin began to step out of the shadows.

"We are shades of what was, seeking redemption for what we did."


	9. The Return Home

They arrived at Winterfell a few days after Dalin had formally introduced himself to Jon. The courtyard was quiet. Some servants walked around here and there, but it was mostly abandoned. That is, until one of the servants saw fit to tell the Lord of Winterfell of their arrival.

He came out with a grin on his face. He had not expected to see Rhaenys for a couple of months. Jon he hadn't expected to see for a couple of years. She could see he was shocked but happy that his brother was back.

"Lady Mera, I did not expect to see you so soon." he greeted her.

"I did not expect to be back so soon." she smiled at him as Jon helped her from her saddle.

"Jon, last I saw you, you told me you would take the black. What happened?" Robb asked her brother. They embraced before he answered his cousin.

"Mera was . . . very persuasive," her brother gazed at her when he gave his reply.

"It's good to have you home, brother." they looked at each other as Robb called Jon brother. The Lord of Winterfell led them to the Great Hall, where the rest of the Stark family was seated, at least, what was left. They could see that Bran had woken. Lady Catelyn was not with them, Robb explained. He told them of the attempt on Bran's life and how his mother planned to go to King's Landing. She could see Jon was preparing to tell his cousin who he really was, but she gave him a look that warned him not to. They didn't know who was listening. Besides, with everything that had happened, it wouldn't be kind to include Robb in the truth.

They were both given their old chambers to sleep in. She did not doubt that Jon would seek her out at night to speak with her. She didn't mind. Their time together was more enjoyable now that he knew who they both really were.

* * *

Earlier in the day, when Robb had gone to take care of his Lordly duties, Rhaenys had taken her brother to Ned's chambers. Leading him into the room, she checked to be sure that the fire was blazing and hot.

"Rhaenys, why are we here?" he almost whispered her name. Because he wasn't used to it or he was afraid of someone hearing, she didn't know. Neither did she care.

"You asked me to prove that we are Targaryens. This is what I'm doing." Before he could stop her, she rolled up the sleeve of her dress and placed her arm up to her elbow in the flames.

He cried out in horror. She expected him to watch, stunned, as she let the flames lick at her arm without actually burning her. Instead, he reached his hand into the fire and pulled hers out. The expression on his face changed from one of fright to amazement. Only the sleeves of his shirt were burnt, not his arm.

"See, brother. We are dragons."

* * *

She walked around the grounds of Winterfell as the sun disappeared behind the walls and night fell. After a few moments of standing in the dark, she made her way back to her chambers. Lost in thought, she failed to notice the figure coming towards her until she walked into him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" her apology died on her lips as she looked into the face of the man. Theon Greyjoy.

"Hello, my lady," he said in a way that most girls found attractive. She found it annoying.

"What do you want, Greyjoy?" the two hadn't gotten along since her visit to Winterfell when Jon was ten. Theon had tried to make her love him. Once he realized that she had no interest in him, he had tried to take her by force. Even though she was older, he had been stronger. Her instincts in a fight hadn't yet been honed and she had had a little too much wine. She had been slow and he managed to push her onto his bed and kiss her before Dalin had dragged him off her. After that, she had hated Theon.

"Just you." he leaned in to kiss her. His kiss was hungry, as if he was half-starved and her mouth was the only food in all the Seven Kingdoms. Before she could punch him, he was pulled away from her. She assumed it was Dalin, but upon a second look, she recognized Jon. He punched Theon in the jaw, then grabbed her arm and half-dragged her to his chambers.

She closed the door behind them as he stormed in. His fists were clenched at his sides and he seemed ready to kill Greyjoy. His anger confused her. She was his sister, yes, but he knew she could have taken care of herself. Why was he so outraged?

"I should go back and kill him." he growled.

"Jon, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?" she came and stood beside him.

For a few moments he didn't answer her. When he did, he whispered it. "I was jealous."

"Jealous? Jealous of what, brother?" But she already knew the answer. She'd always meant more to him than a friend. He had feelings for her she had tried to tell herself were just brotherly. Deep down, she was certain it wasn't true. Especially since the kiss at the Wall. It had been an accident. They both knew it. But it had also been so much more.

She expected him to answer her in an ashamed whisper. Instead, he pulled her against his chest and held her there, his lips inches from hers.

"We shouldn't do this, brother." she hoped that by calling him brother, he would realize what he was doing and stop it. The effect was opposite. If anything, he held her even tighter.

"Why not? If what you say is true, we're dragons. The dragons have always mated with each other." Without any other words, he pressed his lips against hers. She tried to push him away, tell him to stop. But she couldn't help herself anymore than he could. Letting go of the guilt nagging at her, she kissed him back.

* * *

She slept a dreamless sleep. Waking up, she found her head resting on Jon's bare chest. It rose and fell with every breath he took. Rhaenys knew she should get up, find her clothes and walk out, never to let it happen again. She refused to do that.  _What does it matter? He was right. We're Targaryens. It is the way we breed. Let the people say what they will. I don't care._


	10. Treason

The news of Ned's supposed treason had reached them days ago. Robb had refused to bow down to Joffrey. Though she had not told Robb of Jon's true identity, she did inform him of Joffrey's parentage and the reason for Bran's fall. He called his banners.

She watched as he proved to the Greatjon that he was not one to be mocked. She rode with them as the Lord of Winterfell led his bannermen to the Riverlands, his mother's home, to gather an army and rescue his father. They were camped somewhere near the Riverlands when word reached them.

"King" Joffrey "Baratheon" had executed Eddard Stark. His head now decorated the walls of the Red Keep. She could easily imagine the pain Jon and Robb felt.

Lady Catelyn had joined them some days ago. As she left to comfort her son, Rhaenys walked in the opposite direction, to where Jon had decided to hide. He didn't want anyone to see his grief.

He was looking at his reflection in a puddle when she found him. She had heard Robb hacking at a tree. The sound had rang through the woods. Jon had chosen to hit a tree with his bare hands. His knuckles were red with blood as he stared into the muddy water.

"Jon." Not even his name would break him of his trance. Walking over to him, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"No, it isn't." he turned to look at her face. He was searching her face. For what, she could not say.

"Oh, my sweet brother, it is." She cried as she described her dream to him, how she had meant to go to King's Landing and save Ned, but had chosen him before his uncle. The anger was evident. His body was clenched, barely containing the rage within.

When he spoke again, he shocked her. "I say again, it is not your fault. You saw him die, yes, but you could not have known when." The loss of the man he had believed to be his father all his life set in again. He buried his face into her shoulder, not caring that the tears he had tried to hide from everyone else was obvious to her. He knew she would not judge.

"It's alright brother. We will have our revenge. This I swear."

* * *

"You know, Robb should probably know about who we are," Jon said. She could tell this had been bothering him for some time.

"He should, but now might not be the best time." It was dark outside. They were sitting together in his tent. Before, they had been talking over things they remembered from Winterfell.  _In memory of Ned._

"If we're going to avenge my father- uncle- we need to gather as many allies as possible. Robb will help us so long as he knows that he can trust us. Even better, if the North declares for the Targaryens, other houses might too." Her brother had a point. They needed the other houses to win and they couldn't do that without at least one of the regions of Westeros.

"Very well. We'll speak to him soon."

That was not a good enough answer for him. "Rhaenys, we should tell him now. We need time to figure out how to announce our existence to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

She knew he wouldn't stop until she relented. Sighing, she got up and grabbed his arm. "Come on. We'll talk to him."

Dalin was waiting outside. He had heard everything they had said. Without needing to explain, she looked once south, in the direction of the Neck. He understood and left.

Robb was with his mother. They stopped talking the moment she and Jon walked in. Rhaenys felt fury at the Lady of Winterfell's expression. Catelyn's eyes were made of ice as her gaze fell on Jon. The message was clear:  _You're not wanted here. We don't want you here._ I  _don't want you here._

"My lord, we have an important matter to discuss with you," Jon said. He didn't dare call Robb brother in Catelyn's presence.

"Jon, it is late. Can this matter wait until morning?" she could see he was exhausted. That she understood. He was barely a man and already he had to lead his men in a war against one of the most powerful families in Westeros.  _Welcome to my life, cousin._

"No, my lord. You need to know this if you hope to defeat the Lannisters." this got both Robb and Catelyn's attention.

"Well brother? Out with it."

Her brother gazed at her before he continued. "We can get Dorne and most, maybe all, of the Reach to fight for us."

"How?" Lady Catelyn was the one that asked this.

Her brother looked to her. She could see her uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. Neither of them really knew how to explain that they were all that was left of a supposedly dead house. It could be a little easier to make them believe in Jon, but Rhaenys was supposed to be dead.

After a few seconds of silence, Rhaenys decided to be straightforward. "Because we're two of the last three Targaryens."

She wasn't sure if Robb was going to break into laughter or stare in disbelief at them. Catelyn just gave them a look that said she didn't believe a word they said.

"What are you talking about? All the Targaryens are dead brother."

"No. Viserys and Daenarys escaped across the Narrow Sea. Viserys is dead now. My real name's Rhaenys. Jon is my half-brother. Rhaegar Targaryen is our father."

This information only served to confuse Robb even more. "What? No, Jon's father is Eddard Stark."

"No. Jon's father is Rhaegar Targaryen. His mother is Lyanna Stark, your aunt. Ned raised Jon as his bastard after his sister made him promise to protect her son."

There was rage and pain in Catelyn's eyes as she took it all in. "You mean Ned lied to us? All these years?"

She nodded. "Yes. He was an honorable man and he loved his sister more than anything. He would never break any promise to her."

"There is no proof of this. Don't you think that someone would have figured it out by now if Jon was really a Targaryen? I'm fairly certain Varys the Spider would have discovered it." Her cousin wasn't laughing, but he clearly thought it was a joke.

"Not if he was helping to protect the secret."

Now, Robb did laugh. "A little convenient, don't you think? That you would somehow survive, my father would arrive in time to find Jon, Varys works for you and that somehow this secret has not been revealed to the Baratheons or Lannisters?"

Rhaenys didn't bother saying anything. She could feel Dalin's presence before he entered. Both Robb and Catelyn gasped at his sudden appearance. It might have been the fact that Dalin carried an assortment of weapons or it might have been because his eyes were blacker than the night and that it seemed the tent suddenly became colder, but there was a flicker of fear on both their faces.

"My lord, there is proof to their claim." He was completely calm, speaking in a smooth and cool voice.

"Who are you?" Robb asked, his voice quavering slightly in fear. Dalin had that kind of affect on people.

"A servant. I was the one who saved Princess Rhaenys from the Lannister men."

"Words are wind. Anyone can claim to have saved her and bring forward a girl that is supposed to be a Targaryen princess," Lady Stark said coldly.

"And you will find out soon that I am not just anyone. Whether you truly believe the woman before you is Princess Rhaenys doesn't matter. Jon Snow's lineage is undeniable. And before you say that there is no proof, there is. Your father brought Jon back with him from the war. The last place he was before he came to Winterfell was Dorne. Your aunt, Lyanna, was found in the Tower of Joy in Dorne. She was there for a year, time enough to conceive and birth a child. Three Kingsguard were guarding Lyanna Stark. They all knew that Prince Rhaegar had been killed at the Trident. There would be no reason for them to guard her unless she was pregnant with their future king. Your aunt died in a bed of blood, brought on by childbirth." Everyone stared at the shade once he finished speaking. If he dislike the attention, he didn't show it.

Robb broke the silence. "Is there anyone that can swear before the gods that this is true?"

"Yes. Of the six men your father brought with him, only one survived. Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch. I will take you to him, if you wish for him to confirm everything I have said." Dalin's attitude amused her. The way he talked, you would have thought this conversation was about the weather rather than the potential heir to the Iron Throne.

"Very well. Let me saddle my horse and-" Robb began but Dalin interrupted him.

"That won't be necessary, my lord," he said, placing one hand on Robb's shoulder. Before anyone could say anything, they disappeared into the shadows.

Catelyn opened her mouth to cry out. Moving swiftly, Rhaenys clamped one hand down on her mouth, muffling any sound she made. She tried to fight Rhaenys. but Jon grabbed both her arms and held her.

"Don't. No harm will come to Robb, I swear it. They are at Greywater Watch.  _He is safe._ " Lady Catelyn only stared at her hatefully.

It was an hour before they returned. Robb had an expression of shock on his face. Jon let go of Lady Catelyn. She ran to her son, hugging him tightly and asking what had happened.

"Mother, Jon is the King." His voice was a whisper. She backed away from him as if he had slapped her. It was obvious what thoughts were running through her head.  _How is he the king, and my son not? How?_ _The bastard is a king. He's not a bastard at all._

Rhaenys stepped in to continue the in-progress plan. "My uncles have wanted revenge for what was done to my brother and mother. They love me dearly. When they confirm I am who I say I am, Dorne will ally itself with us. Other lords throughout the Seven Kingdoms will join with us once they learn that Dorne and the North have raised their banners for the Targaryens."

"What about the Iron Islands? We'll need their fleet to attack Lannisport." Catelyn was now helping in their planning. It seemed as though for these few moments, she had forgotten her deep hatred for Jon and her newly acquainted one for Rhaenys.

"We'll need someone to go and bring terms to them," Jon said.

"Agreed. I'll send Theon to treat with his father." Robb had barely finished when Rhaenys cried out.

"No!" They all looked at her as if she had gone mad. She elaborated. "Theon is a hostage, brought to the North to ensure his father's obediance. If we send him to the Iron Islands, there's no guarantee that he'll come back. Or that he will come back with a host of Ironborn prepared to invade the North."

"My sister's right. We should send someone else. And just to be certain, Theon will remain here," her brother said.

Robb nodded, deep in thought. "Yes. And once all the armies have been joined-"

"-we will march to King's Landing-" she continued.

"-and make the Lannisters pay for their crimes," Jon finished. There was a grim satisfaction with the idea. None of them wanted war, but it was the only way. Everything was falling into place.

"Volar morghulis."  _All men must die._


	11. Gods

In all her travels, Rhaenys had never seen Riverrun. It was a beautiful place. But she couldn't appreciate it as much as she should have.  _My father died just over there, when Robert Baratheon killed him. I swore that I would shove a sword through his chest. Now he's dead, and I can't avenge my father._

Jon could tell that she wasn't enjoying being at Riverrun. He should have been with his Robb, planning for the next battle. Instead, he spent his time with her.

"Do you believe in the Seven?" he asked. It was an odd question. Never before had he asked about which gods she held in belief.

"I don't know. They were my mother's gods, and our father's. Most of the South believes in them, too. But there are so many gods in the world, who knows which, if any, are the real ones."

He leaned against a wall as they both stared at the rivers. They reflected the sunset and the color reminded her of fire.  _Fire and blood._  "Have you been anywhere that the people worship a different god?"

"I've been to many places," she said. "The Dothraki worship the Great Stallion. In Asshai, they pray to R'hllor, the Lord of the Light. The Iron Islands are believers in the Drowned God and the Storm God."

Her brother nodded his head in agreement when she spoke of the Iron Islands. "Theon told Robb and I about the Drowned god once. I didn't pay much attention to anything he said. When I told him this later, he said I didn't believe because I've never been to the sea before."

"You Northerners have rubbed off on me. I don't know if I truly believe in any of the gods, but there are two that I might be willing to put my faith in."

"Who?" he asked, intrigued.

"The Old gods, for one. I can't really explain it. I guess just watching Ned put so much faith in them influenced me more than anyone else. I am inclined to believe in them." She turned to him. "Well, you've had your answer. Now I suggest we find Robb to see if perhaps he needs us for anything."

She began to walk out of the room, but stopped when she realized that Jon hadn't followed her. Looking back to him, she saw that he was still staring at her in confusion. "What is it?"

"You said you were considering two gods. The first, the Old gods of the North. You didn't tell me which was the second." He continued to stare at her, waiting for an answer.

She gave him a smile. It was almost of pity.  _He will not understand._ "The God of Many Faces," she said.

* * *

Her brother had remained in the room, still gazing out at the rivers. Rhaenys couldn't help but feel jealous.  _It is so easy for him to accept his gods. He has not seen the suffering I have._  Robb was talking with his great uncle, the Blackfish.

"My lords," she greeted them, curtsieing.

"Ah, Rhaenys. I have just been talking with my uncle about what is to come." She had an idea as to what it was they were talking about.

"Robb, did you tell Ser Brynden?" Her eyes showed how serious she was. Robb may trust the Blackfish, but he couldn't just go around telling anyone about Jon.  _Or me._

"No. I have been waiting for you and Jon to come." He realized that Jon wasn't with them. "Where is my brother?"

_He still thinks of Jon that way, even after everything I've told him._ "He'll be here shortly." In truth, she didn't know if her brother would show. She didn't think anything revealed had caused offense.  _He may just want to be alone to comprehend what I have said to him._

"I guess we will have to wait until the lords meet tonight to discuss this," Robb said.

"Meet? About what?" Any gathering of the lords would be important. She needed them to trust her or her brother if her plan was to work.  _It must work._

"We will just be talking over important issues." his tone implied what that meant.  _They will declare for someone._

"I can guarantee that Jon and I will be there." Without another word, she left to return to her brother.


	12. Crowning

They were in the Great Hall of Riverrun. The lords had gathered for a war council. They all agreed that Robb needed to declare for a king if they were to wage war against the Lannisters. She was with them, though she doubted that they were considering her brother. Very few knew of their existence.

Jon had sent letters to the Reach announcing his birthright. Rhaenys had sent letters to her uncles, Doran and Oberyn. From the Reach, Lord Tarly had said that he would declare for Jon. Doran had answered that he was sending Oberyn and the Sand Snakes to confirm that she was their long lost niece. Discreetly, she had also sent a letter to Margaery Tyrell and the Queen of Thorns asking for their loyalty. Lady Margaery had replied, saying that she would do her best to convince her father, but unless Jon declared himself king, there wasn't much she could do. Lady Olenna had also agreed to help once Dorne made certain that she was Rhaenys, though she had implied a price for their aid.

Two days before reaching Riverrun, Dalin had confronted her about her plans for the future. "My queen, you need to decide what is to be done about your brother and the other 'kings,'" he had said.

"My brother will be king. Renly Baratheon knows nothing about ruling. Stannis will come to our side once the truth is revealed. They say he has a priestess of the Lord of Light with him. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage. My father believed that Aegon was the Lord's Chosen. It could be that he had the wrong son in mind."

Dalin had looked at her in shock. "Surely you can't mean to believe in that prophecy. Rhaenys, it drove your father mad."  _He fears I share my father's madness._

"Honestly, I don't know what to believe. You and I both know strange things are happening beyond the Wall. Maybe my brother is Azor Azhai reborn. Maybe  _Stannis_  is meant to fulfill the prophecy. Or maybe the priestess and I are both wrong and the prophecy means nothing. It doesn't matter. If we are to save Westeros, we need all the realms fighting under one banner: my brother's."

She listened as the lords argued over declaring for Joffrey, Renly or Stannis. Watching her brother, she understood why he chose not to voice his opinion in this matter. Many believed him to be a bastard. Even if he had been Ned Stark's son, some of the lords would feel offended that a bastard got to speak like he was their equal. They were all trying to determine which king they should support when the true king was standing among them. She didn't pay much attention until Robb spoke.

"Renly is not the king," he said.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Galbart Glover said. "He put your father to death."

"That makes him evil," Robb replied. "I do not know that it makes Renly king. Joffrey is still thought to be Robert's eldest trueborn son, so the throne is his by right of conquest. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey." He was wise to mention that the throne had been Robert's by conquest.

"Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly?" Robb continued. "He's Robert's  _younger_ brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis."

Lady Mormont agreed. "Lord Stannis has the better claim." Rhaenys almost laughed aloud.  _None of them have a better claim than Jon or myself._

"So you mean for us to declare for Stannis?" Edmure Tully asked.

"No. I mean to declare for the two who have the only  _true_ claim to the Iron Throne. For who else has the most right than those of the family that united the Seven Kingdoms?" She could have kissed Robb.

The other lords looked as if he had gone mad. Which, in their eyes, he probably had. "My lord," Maege Mormont began. "The Targaryen line ended with Rhaegar and his children. With them dead, who else is there to declare for?"

"Rhaegar died, aye, as did Elia of Dorne and baby Aegon. But Rhaenys is not dead. No, she stands with us." He turned to her. "Lady Mera, I ask that you rise before us as yourself: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, firstborn of Rhaegar Targaryen."

Everyone, including Jon, stared at her as she stood up. The feeling of their eyes made her uncomfortable. Most looked at her with distrust. But she couldn't back down. "My lords, I have come before you tonight to help me win back what belongs to my family. I am sorry to have deceived you for so long, but I had to be sure I could trust you. I can understand your pain at losing Ned Stark. I watched, helpless, as my family was destroyed before me. I want vengeance for him as much as you. He gave me hope and shelter where others would not. More than that, he protected my brother from Robert Baratheon."

"Why should we declare for you? If you are who you claim to be, your father kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her!" one of the lords shouted.

"My father did not force Lyanna to come with him. I met her once, when my father was saying goodbye. She was not beaten or scared or hurt. No. If anything, she seemed more lively than ever before. She left with him willingly. And she willingly gave him a son, though neither lived to raise him. Aegon is dead. But the son born of dragon  _and_ wolf lives on. If you do not believe me, seek out Howland Reed, who traveled to the Tower of Joy with Ned, where my brother was born and where I stayed after the Sack of King's Landing."

"Who is this boy that you speak of, my lady?" This speaker was the Greatjon. He did not yell or speak harshly.

She smiled at him. Of all the lords there, she liked him the best. He had been sweet and gentle with her. And now, when many others disliked her presence, he talked kindly, as if nothing had changed between them. As if she hadn't just admitted to being Targaryen.

Turning away, she walked over to where Jon sat. "Brother, I ask that you take what is rightfully yours.

"You are Rhaegar's only remaining son. Aegon is dead. Our aunt, Daenarys, is across the Narrow Sea. But your claim comes before hers and mine. If you do not wish to be king, I understand. Daenarys may rule instead of you. However, I do ask you to take your birthright. I know that you would become a sort of king that has not been seen in a long time." He stared at her in disbelief.

"Sister, I . . ." Robb didn't give him a chance to refuse.

"I am your brother, now and always." He said.

"Now and always," Jon replied. Kneeling before him, Robb laid his sword at her brother's feet.

The Greatjon was the next to follow. "The King of the Seven Kingdoms!" he bellowed. Then, surprising everyone, he knelt before her too. "The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!"

She paled. But before she could reject his idea for her to join her brother, the other lords began to take up the cry.

"The King of the Seven Kingdoms! The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" They repeated this over and over again until she truly felt like the Queen of the North.

_Daenarys can have the Free Cities if she so wishes. I will rule beside Jon as Queen of Westeros._


	13. The Viper

It wasn't very long after Jon had been crowned King and she Queen that Oberyn Martell and the Sand Snakes arrived. Rhaenys had been worried all day long.  _What if he rejects us?_  Jon had tried to calm her down, but to no avail. The fire that was her anxiety could not be quenched.

With crowns upon their heads, Jon held her hand as the Red Viper rode his horse into Riverrun. His daughters followed behind him. There were four. She did not doubt that they were some of the most deadly women in all of Dorne. Her uncle dismounted and walked towards them.

"Welcome to Riverrun, Lord Oberyn," Jon said, playing the perfect role of King.

"Thank you, Your Grace." His voice was bitter. It was easy to tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't like Jon. There was a barely contained hatred there. Obviously he blamed Lyanna Stark as the reason for his sister's death, and saw Jon only as another reminder of what his mother had done.

His gaze left Jon and immediately went to her. All the anger left his eyes in that moment. He moved towards her warily, unsure if she was truly his neice.

She was well aware that she no longer had her mother's coloring. Though her hair remained the same, she resembled more of her father than her mother. But her eyes were the same as Elia of Dorne's. And the Red Viper could tell.

"Rhaenys? Is it really you?" he asked cautiously, as if one wrong word could make her disappear. She closed the gap that was between them and wrapped her arms around him.

"Yes, uncle. I'm here." he embraced her, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held all that was left of his sister.

They held a feast in honor of her uncle's arrival. Despite Lord Eddard's death, everyone seemed truly happy. And they had good reason. They had crowned their own king, not just some idiot who would ignore them while he sat in the South. Jon and Rhaenys were man and wife in all but name, which would soon be changed. And it seemed as though they had an actual fighting chance against the Lannisters. She did not doubt that the Reach would join them. The Stormlands, she hoped, would bend the knee to them after they gave Storm's End to Stannis. Her uncle had sworn for Dorne that they would serve the King and Queen of the North.

Though he still disliked Jon, Oberyn had sworn for Jon rather than his niece. She had begged him to, for her sake. He had relented to her pleads, though he didn't like having to do it.

She had been thinking over this when her uncle sat down next to her. "You seem troubled," he stated simply.

"I am Queen. I have many responsibilities." Her head hurt from the sleepless nights. With so many duties and nightmares, she got very little sleep. A servant walked by with a tray of wine cups. Before he could pass by her, she grabbed one and drained it in one swallow.

Her uncle chuckled. "You shouldn't drink so much. Don't want to end up like Robert Baratheon and the lioness bitch in King's Landing."

"Don't worry, uncle. It was just that one cup. Perhaps it'll help to ease my headache." she smiled at him. Suddenly, he leaned over. He spoke quickly and quietly.

"If he has been giving you too much work or . . . hurting you, tell me, and I'll make him stop," he said, looking over at where Jon was laughing with Robb and the Greatjon.

She sighed. Her uncle assumed all her trouble came from Jon. "No, it's not his fault. He has nothing to do with it." In truth, he had everything to do with it, though not as Oberyn thought. Her sleepless nights were because of nightmares. Most of them involved Jon dying in some horrific way by the Lannisters. But sometimes, the night of the Sack would haunt her. She would wake up and, upon realizing it was just a memory, would curl up closer to Jon.

"Are you sure? Look at how he ignores you. Before you know it, he'll be kissing some whore while you look on in anger." he narrowed his eyes as this thought began to create an entire conspiracy in his mind.

"Uncle, you take everything he does as insult to either you or me. He is not with me now because I insisted that he speak and enjoy the night with someone other than me. Those men he is with: one is the man he believed to be his brother and who he still considers to be his brother. The other is a loyal lord and a good friend to both of us." She knew it was because Jon's parentage that Oberyn regarded him in such a way, but that didn't make her any less irritated with his insults towards her soon-to-be husband.

Sensing her anger, he laughed. "As you say. You know that I would do anything for you," he said with a smile. His eyes became sad though as he stroked her cheek. "You look so like her."

"She did not die in vain. We will avenge her. I could not avenge my father. I swear to you, I will make certain that she will be, uncle. And don't worry, I'll be sure to leave the Mountain alive for you," she said this with a wide smile. He smiled back at her, pleased at the prospect of revenge for his sister.

He made to leave and go sit with his daughters, but she grabbed his arm, remembering something important. "Uncle, I would like to ask a favor of you."

"Of course. Anything," he kneeled next to her.

"I need you to go to the Iron Islands and convince Balon Greyjoy to give us his fleet." She and Jon had talked over how to get the Iron Islands' support for their war. They had decided to leave Theon out of it, worried that they would rebel once their prince was back in their grasp. Instead, they had agreed to send her uncle and the Sand Snakes.

"Shouldn't you send that boy, Theon? He is, after all, Balon's son."

"Yes, but he is also the only leverage we have over them. No, Theon is not an option. Please. Take your daughters and go to the Iron Islands. For me," she added. Any resistance he had had was gone when she said those two words.

"I swear to you, it will be done." He then walked away, no doubt to inform his daughters of the change in plans. With him gone, she was left in her thoughts.

_The Freys are ours, so long as Robb keeps his part of the bargain. The Reach should be ours as well as the Stormlands, once we help Stannis take it. The Iron Islands will join us, or they will face our wrath. Catelyn's sister is Lady of the Eyrie. Lysa Arryn will help her sister. Dorne was always mine. That only leaves the Westerlands, which are controlled by the Lannisters. So many allies, and yet any one of them could easily betray us._

She'd had the dream again. The one in which Robb and Lady Catelyn had died. Except this time, Jon had replaced Robb and she had replaced Catelyn.  _That will be our future if we are not careful._

Her thoughts were interrupted as Ghost sat down by her side. He was growing larger by the day, Grey Wind too. Both were bigger than the average wolf now.  _They will definitely come in handy when it comes to battle._ The albino direwolf nuzzled her hand as Dalin approached out of the shadows. She doubted anyone had seen him appear. Most were drunk by this time and those who weren't wouldn't notice him walk out of the shadows. It was dark where she sat.

"If we weren't here, this would be the perfect place for an assassin to kill you," he murmured, looking around. "No one noticed me appear out of thin air. No one would have noticed an actual man walk up to you and slit your throat."

"Yes, but you  _are_ here. I have nothing to worry about."

"My queen, even I have limits. Do not become arrogant. There are some things that I cannot protect you from."

"That wasn't arrogance, it was the truth. If you are only here to criticize me, then you have my leave to go," she said. "This is supposed to be a  _happy_ occasion. Dorne has allied itself to us and the Reach, Stormlands and Iron Islands will soon follow."

"The Reach, aye. The Iron Islands could take awhile, but will come around. The Stormlands, however, I am not so sure about." he said grimly.

"Why?" This worried her.  _What could possibly happen that would not allow Stannis and Renly to see reason?_

"It is the Red Woman. She has shown Stannis what she sees in her fires. He now believes himself to be the Lord's Chosen." Dalin did not like Melisandre, the priestess. Although he refused to tell Rhaenys anything about the afterlife, he seemed to have a certain hatred for all things associated with R'hllor. That could mean two things: either R'hllor is real and they are not on good terms or Dalin met the real gods in the afterlife and hates all those who believe in the false god.

"We knew that this would happen. We can only hope that he will either join us because he sees us as a friend or because Melisandre sees Jon to be the real Lord's Chosen." Of the second option, she was doubtful. From Dalin's reports, the priestess was certain that Stannis was Azor Azhai born again. She could be wrong, but Rhaenys wasn't sure about any of it.

"Yes, my queen," he said, disappearing into the shadows again. At that moment, she chose to leave the feast and go to the chamber's she and Jon shared. Even with all the things to celebrate, everything to be happy for, she would think about all the things to be fearful for and worried of.

Ghost padded along with her. He barely made a sound. For that, she was thankful. If anyone were to talk to her at that moment, she was confident that she would scream out in frustration. Everything was so difficult, and no matter how hard she tried, her fear of the Lannisters and the dreams were overwhelming.

The minute she entered the chambers, she practically slammed the doors shut. She removed the dress worn to the feast and laid in her bed, naked. She could have just called for Dalin to bring her a night dress, but she was too exhausted to even ask that. Not for the first time, she wondered if something might be wrong with her. Ever since Jon was crowned, she had felt unwell. As she always did, she put it out of her head.  _Too much going on. I will be alright in the morning._ With Ghost laying next to her on the bed, she slipped into a fitful sleep.

Sometime in the night, she was vaguely aware of Jon joining her in bed. He kissed her forehead and held her close. With him next to her, she slept a dreamless sleep for most of the night. It wasn't until some time later that her first nightmare came to her.

* * *

_There was laughter in the distance. It echoed in her head as she pushed aside all the people who were in her way of . . . something. She wasn't sure what. All she knew was that she had to reach it before it was too late._

_Everything reminded her of something familiar, like a she had seen it all before. There were many tables, each one stacked high with food and drink. Men sat at every one, laughing and singing with each other. Some of the faces looked familiar, but she couldn't place them. So many people were between her and what she needed to get to._

_"Move away! Get out of my way!" she screamed. They all seemed to be purposefully stepping in front of her, as if trying to prevent her from getting to whatever it was she needed to. "Move! Please!"_

_Suddenly, everyone moved to the side, giving her a clear view of where she was going. What she saw was a gruesome sight. Her heart caught in her throat. Jon._

_He was on his knees, arrows in his chest. A sword lay on the floor next to him, but he wouldn't pick it up. His head wasn't right either. On his shoulders was the head of an overlarge, white wolf with red eyes. All around him bodies were strewn, some with their throats ripped out and others that looked stabbed to death. Jon held something in his arms._

_For the first time, she realized that the men around her all had two towers painted on their chests. Those she had seen laughing at the tables weren't laughing, they were screaming as they died. She recognized the faces of those dead around her. Oberyn, the Greatjon, Edmure Tully, the Blackfish, Lady Catelyn, Robb, Ned Stark, Elia of Dorne, Rhaegar, Lyanna Stark, baby Aegon, even Viserys and Daenarys. So many. Even more they farther on. Anyone she had ever cared for or loved, all dead. All except Jon._

_She approached him, fearful that she had been wrong. As she came nearer, he looked up at her. Tears streamed down the wolf's cheeks. "They took everything," he said to her. "They killed them all. Even him." He lifted her arms for her to see._

_The thing that he held in his arms was a baby. She thought it was Aegon, but she was wrong. This babe had brown eyes and his hair was so dark it was almost black. The poor infant stared up at her with eyes that she knew. The child looked so familiar, she knew she was supposed to recognize it, but she couldn't. She began to shake her head, as if to say that she didn't understand, and then, as if from some old memory, she realized who that child was._

_Of course. The brown eyes, her mother's eyes. Rhaenys' own eyes. The brown hair, like the Stark's. Jon's hair. Our child. Our son. Dead. The laughing continued as Jon fell over. He was dead too. Just like their baby. She screamed and ran to his side. She held him, her cries of pain echoing in the hall._

_"NO!" she screamed over and over again. But still the laughing continued, until it was the only thing she could hear, the only thing she could think about. "NO!"_

* * *

Rhaenys sat upright, about to scream. Looking around wildly, she realized where she was.  _My room. I am in my room._  Then panic filled her mind and she twisted around to see if Jon was still with her. He was sleeping next to her. His chest rose and fell with every breath. She sighed in relief.  _Just a dream. Just a dream._  But deep down, she knew it wasn't. Everything she saw would come to pass if she didn't stop it.

Carefully, she stepped out of bed and walked over to the window, not caring that no clothes covered her skin. Gazing out to Riverrun, she slowly rubbed her hand over her stomach. No bump was visible, but she knew the baby was there.  _We did it twice, what felt like a lifetime ago. The first at Winterfell, when we returned from the Wall. The second time was only a week ago._  They had not yet reached Riverrun when she had come seeking her brother in the camp.

She hadn't expected it to happen. The whole reason she had gone to him was to discuss plans for the future, if he would be king or if he would give the position to someone else. They had talked long into the night. The conversation had changed to marriage pacts. She had suggested offering her to some high lord in order to gain their fealty.

When she began giving him names of lords who might want the sister of the king to be their wife, he had cut her off. She thought he would tell her that he already decided who to marry her to. In a way, he did, just not the way that she had thought he would. Instead, he had said that none of them could have her. Her confusion must have been evident, because he elaborated by leaning over and kissing her.

It was just a simple kiss, yet it soon became much more passionate. They had undressed each other until they were both naked and laying in his bed. He had held her against his chest, never wanting the moment to end. They were both a bit awkward around each other after that. They weren't sure where their relationship would go after that. Then they became King and Queen and were forced to spend much more time in one another's company.

"Eddard. Your name will be Eddard, my sweet son," she whispered as she held her hand over her stomach.


	14. A Royal Wedding

The wedding took place a few days after Oberyn arrived. Despite Catelyn's dislike of Jon, she was the one who helped Rhaenys prepare for the wedding. And it was the Red Viper who had lead her out to the godswood to be married. They were to be married in front of the Old gods. For that, she was thankful. Her many visits North had left her with more belief in the Old gods than the Seven. And she couldn't stand to pray to the Seven after the deaths of almost her entire family.

Jon's banner depicted the direwolf of House Stark and the dragon of House Targaryen. The same design was put onto her bride cloak, almost no different than her maiden cloak. Except hers had the dragon of their father's house and the sun and spear of the Martells. They said their vows by a weirwood tree and the Old gods watched as they swore to love and protect each other for as long as we lived. Her brother - now husband - had removed the cloak from her shoulders gently, not hurrying to make her his. And after he had wrapped her in his cloak, he had held her face in his hands as he leaned down to kiss her.

The feast was bigger than she would have liked. But then again, she was Queen of the North, by name  _and_ marriage now. The North, or at least most of it, loved their king. Of course many would turn up to witness him marrying the woman who was already queen.

Many toasts were given in their name. Hundreds came to offer their congratulations. Even more cheered for them and for their coming victory over the Lannisters. Rhaenys didn't like that part.  _The war has only just begun. They think that just because we are Targaryens that we will win. My father was pure Targaryen. That didn't stop Robert Baratheon from crushing his chest in with his warhammer on the Trident._

Ever since her new dream, she feared any feasts in which Freys were present.  _This night could be the one where we are all killed and Jon's head is traded for Ghost's._ Almost without a second thought, she laid her hands protectively over her stomach. It had only come to her a few nights ago, but she was still cautious.  _I have a prince growing inside of me._ Jon had noticed her movement.

"Are you unwell my queen?" he asked, worry in his eyes.  _He's afraid of someone trying to kill me. The same fear I have for him._ Rhaenys had not yet found a time to tell Jon that she carried his child.  _Tonight might be a good time._

"I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "You do not need to fret over me so."

He grinned back, pulling her to his chest. "You're my queen. I need you to help me rule my kingdom. What would I do if you were to leave me?"

 _You would handle yourself perfectly well._ _You don't need me_ , she might have said. Instead, she said, "You wouldn't last a day without me."  _And I couldn't last an hour without you._

* * *

In her opinion, the feast went very well until the cry of "bed them" went up. The queen had no fear of lying in bed with Jon. It was just being undressed by all the lords before being pushed into their bed chambers that made her anxious.

Before she had the chance to argue that it was not necessary, the Greatjon had her slung over his shoulder, her uncle leading them down the hall. The Blackfish was bringing up the rear, Robb by his side.  _At least it is the men I'm close to._  She watched as her husband was taken down another hallway by the Sand Snakes, Lady Catelyn following them.  _That's unusual. But its a wedding. Stranger things have happened._ _  
_

Once they reached the outside of the chambers she and Jon shared, the men surrounding her began to strip her of her clothes. They did it with care, not hastily trying to tear her clothes off, wanting to see the queen naked. The Greatjon and Blackfish were first to leave once she was naked, their job done. Both offered their congratulations and walked down the way they had come.

Oberyn was next to go. He claimed that he should stand guard, in case anything bad happened but she managed to convince him to go back to the feast.

"I'll be fine uncle," she said as Robb tied a necklace of rubies around her neck. It had been his gift to her. "Ghost will guard me." The direwolf had decided to follow her rather than his master. He was now sitting obediently outside the door.

"Alright. But if he does tries anything, just scream at the top of your lungs," he called as he left her alone with Robb.

Without warning, he lifted her up and carried her into the room. "Are you ready, Your Grace?"

"Can you truly be ready for a bedding ceremony?" she asked him. She hadn't felt so awkward in many years. Rhaenys tried to tell herself that her worries were stupid. After all, she had lain with Jon twice already. But this wasn't the same. Being naked in front of Jon was one thing. Being naked in front of two lords, her uncle, and her cousin were two different things.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." he said, laying her down on the bed. He kissed her forehead before walking out, closing the doors behind him. Turning onto her side, she stared out the window. The servants had left it open upon her request. They hadn't lit any candles or a fire. She wanted the moon to be their only light.

He entered not long after, silently coming to lay down beside her. He kissed her shoulder, pulling them closer together. They laid like that for a while, in each other's arms. Eventually, their lips met and they kissed passionately. Jon moved to her neck, kissing her softly. He slowly worked down as she sighed in pleasure.

_If only we could remain like this for the rest of our days. Together._


	15. Agreements

"Has Lady Olenna given her price for Highgarden's aid?" Rhaenys asked the council sitting before her. It consisted of Catelyn Tully, Edmure Tully, their maester, Nymeria Sand, Lords Bolton and Karstark. The two lords were left, along with a third of their men, to defend Riverrun. Jon and Robb, as well as most of their army had gone to fight in the West. Jon, refusing to take her with him, had left her to rule in his place.

"Yes, Your Grace. Before, she asked that her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell, be married to the King. Once word reached them that you had been married to him, she revised it to ask that Robb Stark or another Stark be married to one of her house." The speaker was the maester at Riverrun. She could never remember his name. She missed Maester Luwin in Winterfell. He had always been kind and given her help when needed.

"Robb cannot be married to Margaery, as he is sworn to marry a Frey. We will have to give them Sansa as soon as she is rescued from the Lannisters. Ask Lady Olenna if she would be willing to have Loras or Willas be married to Sansa."  _Everything is about marriage. Why?_

The council meetings more often than not left her with headaches that lasted all throughout the day.  _Damn the politics. Damn the game._

"There is another matter." Catelyn Tully was the talking this time. The two women, though they had different opinions of Jon, had worked together very well in establishing the King in the North's rule. "Word has also come to us from Oberyn Martell. He wrote that he is at the Iron Islands and currently negotiating with Balon Greyjoy."

"Any demands made by Greyjoy?"  _There will be at least one. And I can guess what that will be._ _  
_

"He says that Theon must be released and brought home." The others, except for Nymeria and Catelyn, started voicing their approval for that.

"If he wants his son, he can have him." Edmure said.

"Aye. Theon Greyjoy's a pain in the ass. Give him to his father." Lord Karstark said, agreeing with Edmure.

"Your Grace? If I may?" Lady Nym asked. Rhaenys nodded. "My lords, this Theon Greyjoy is a hostage taken to ensure that his father didn't rebel against the North. If we were to give him back, we would have nothing to stop the Iron Islands from rebelling again."

"Thank you, cousin. She is correct. We cannot afford to give up Theon." In all honesty, she would have loved nothing more than to give Theon back to his home. But that was not something they could do. "Lady Catelyn, I would like you to go to Bitterbridge and seek an alliance with Renly and Stannis." Renly was currently marching with a Tyrell host to King's Landing. Lady Ollena and Margaery were both attempting to convince Mace Tyrell to join them. Lord Tarly and a few other lords of the Reach had left the Tyrells to swear allegiance to Jon.

"Of course, Your Grace." she said.

"If there are no more matters to discuss, then I would like to end this meeting." They nodded and left.

The Queen sighed. When she was younger, she had dreamed of ruling on her own, a single queen controlling all of Westeros. Now, she didn't know what she had been thinking. Jon was only gone for a while and already, she had to stop herself from ripping her hair out. Walking down the halls of Riverrun, she wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep. But there were other things she had to see done first.

* * *

Dalin was waiting for her in the godswood. She had asked him to meet her there after the meeting that morning.

"What news of Daenarys?" Not long before, she had learned that Viserys had been killed by his sister's husband. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.  _He was mad, just like Grandfather._

"Sad tiddings. Her husband, Khal Drogo, and their son are dead. Most of the Khalasaar is gone. And what is left is traveling with her through the Red Wastes. Be mindful, my queen. There are few shadows in the Red Waste. We will not be able to watch her closely."

"I see. We will have to make do. Watch her and try to keep her safe." She turned to leave but remembered something that had been bothering her all day. "Dalin?"

"Yes?"

"What of her dragons?" Varys had sent a letter saying that his friend in Pentos, Magister Illyrio, had given Daenarys dragon eggs that hatched. He had apologized for not giving them to her first, claiming that he thought they were stone.

"From what little information we receive, it is hard to know. All I can tell you is that they grow."

"Thank you, my friend."

She worried that her aunt wouldn't want to share the Seven Kingdoms and that the madness was a part of her. But every time she thought of it, she realized how foolish that was. Daenarys had her dragons. It would be years before they were fully grown. Rhaenys had Jon, direwolves, most of the Seven Kingdoms, and Dalin.

_If worst comes to worst, I can always have Dalin kill her and her dragons._

* * *

A week later, word reached them that a group of Ironborn had taken Winterfell. Pain had shot through her heart as they read that Bran and Rickon had been killed. She had loved the little boys. But she knew her pain was nothing compared to that of Catelyn Tully. It was for that reason that she sought Lady Stark out the night that they received the message.

"Lady Stark?" she called, knocking on the door to her chambers. There was the sound of someone moving to the door a moment before it opened.

"Your Grace. I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to visit," she said, trying desperately to wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Rhaenys stepped inside. It was obvious Catelyn had been grieving for hours. Food lay on the table, but none of it was touched.

"My lady, I am so, so sorry." She hugged the older woman, trying to give her any small comfort she could. Lady Catelyn wept openly now, no longer caring that it was the queen that she cried in front of.

As Rhaenys spoke of how they would avenge the two Stark boys, Dalin stepped out of the shadows from a corner. He didn't have to say anything. The question was in his eyes.  _Now?_  they seemed to say.

The young queen's eyes hardened as she thought of how Bran would never see his sixteenth name day, would never have a wife and children of his own, of Rickon, who would never see his mother again. She nodded.  _I don't care if the Ironborn surrender. They will suffer for what they have done._


	16. Broken Vows

Dalin had come to her room at her command. "What is it, Your Grace?" he asked.

"How long would it take you to find Sansa and Arya and bring them both back?" They held the Kingslayer, but the Lannisters had Sansa. Arya was out in the wilderness somewhere.

"That depends. It should not be too difficult, probably taking no more than a month," he said. "However, you should be prepared. We could encounter any number of problems along the way. But rest assured, my queen, we will find them."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Dalin didn't leave though. "There is one more matter, my queen."

This intrigued her. She was unaware of any ravens bringing any news. What could have happened? "What is it? Has Jon sent word?"

His face wasn't visible, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "No. Rhaenys, Bran and Rickon Stark are alive."

"What?!" she screamed. It wasn't of fear. She screamed in joy.  _The boys are alive! I can't believe it._ "Find them. Bring them back. This is wonderful news. We must let the others know at once."

* * *

Jon returned from the Crag victorious. The Westerlings had bent the knee and what little men they had became the King of the Seven Kingdoms, or the Black Dragon as some had taken to calling him. That still didn't make her any less fearful when her brother returned with a grim expression. And she didn't fail to notice that the Freys were missing.

She didn't voice her worries. The army was in high spirits, despite the missing house. They had won many victories in their conquest of the Westerlands. Nothing good would come of her ruining any moments of celebration they earned.

Putting on a genuine smile, she walked to where Jon was dismounting. She didn't fail to notice how tired his eyes were before they embraced. He seemed so much older than he really was.  _It's hard to remember that he's only sixteen._

"Welcome home, Jon." she whispered.

"I missed you," he replied. Their lips met briefly, before he pulled back and went to greet the others who had remained in Riverrun. When he greeted Lady Catelyn, his uncle's wife hugged him, to the surprise of everyone, when she told him of how Bran and Rickon lived. Ghost approached her. Rhaenys patted his head and followed Jon, waiting to ask the questions that were bothering her.

"Jon, what is happening? Where did the Freys go?" she asked him when they had a moment alone in their room.

"Rhaenys, Robb broke his vows to them." His voice was barely a whisper.

"What? How?" She didn't understand.  _Robb is honorable. What would make him break his vows?_

"He was injured in the battle. One of Lord Westerling's daughters, Jeyne, had been taking care of him. When we found out about what the Ironborn did at Winterfell, he looked to Jeyne for comfort. In the morning, he decided to preserve her honor and marry her." He was angry. There was a barely contained rage in his voice. Robb had jeopardized their plans by going behind Jon's back and dishonoring the Freys.

"You have to do something." she whispered. Falling in love, she could understand. After all, she had fallen for Jon. But what Robb did was unacceptable.

"I know, I know. I will think of something, just not right now," he said quietly. She knew he had to be tired from all the bloodshed. Rhaenys walked over to him and hugged him tightly. He gasped in pain at her grip. She released him immediately, worried why he was in pain.

"What is it?" her voice was full of fear.  _The Freys. They have done something to him._

"When we took the Crag," he began, sitting in their bed, "their archers were shooting down at us. One of them managed to hit me. It pierced my shoulder." He laughed at the horror on her face. "I'm fine. It wasn't life threatening."

She sat down next to him.  _I am growing more and more paranoid every day._ Now that he had pointed it out, she could see how he moved his right shoulder with care.

"What news did Catelyn bring from Bitterbridge?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Renly is dead. The Tyrells have bent the knee to us. With Stannis, we are unsure. Only time will tell. Oberyn also returned. The Iron Islands, and their fleet, are ours. Those that attacked Winterfell are being punished." She couldn't help but feel excited. Already, most of the lords had joined their forces. Her dream still remained fresh in her mind, however. "But Walder Frey won't forget this insult soon."

"We'll have to hope for the best." he said. He placed a hand tentatively over her stomach, where their son grew.

"I have a name for him," she said happily. Jon looked up, surprised.

"How do you know it will be a boy?"

"I just do." she didn't dare tell him about the dream.

"Alright. What will his name be?"

"Eddard." she told him, carefully. Rhaenys knew that it was still painful for him to think of the man he would always consider to be his father. But when she said the name, he smiled.

"Yes. That will be a good name." He pulled her closer and kissed her.

* * *

"Jaime," was all she said to the blond-haired man in the cell. Jaime Lannister had been taken captive by Jon in the Battle of the Whispering Wood. He was their prisoner. She had Dalin bring him to her room.

"Rhaenys?" He gazed at her in wonder. He had always been fond of her as a child. He had heard how Amory Lorch had supposedly stabbed her half a hundred times. Now, seeing her stand before him, grown-up, was almost too much pain to bear.

A day before Jon returned from the Crag, Catelyn had tried to release the Kingslayer. At the same time, Rhaenys had wanted Jaime Lannister brought to her so she could speak to him. She had sent her cousin, Nymeria Sand, to bring him to her. There, Nymeria found Catelyn Stark and Brienne of Tarth about to release him. The Sand Snake had called for guards and had Catelyn stopped.

"I need to ask you some questions, Jaime. Please, don't lie to me." She walked around him. He was chained to the chair he sat in. Her voice was quiet as she asked her first question. " Were you and your sister lovers?"

He hung his head in shame, as though admitting it to her made it a terrible crime, despite how her family had been breeding with each other for generations. And that she and Jon had done the same. "Yes."

"Good. Are Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen your children?"

"Yes."

“Did you push Brandon Stark from the tower when he saw you and your sister together?”

His face paled when he heard her question, although she noted that he did not hesitate in answering her. “Yes.”

"One more." She paused, preparing to ask the question that might very well change the war. "Did you serve my father faithfully?"

This last question caught him off guard. He hadn't expected her to ask about Rhaegar. "Yes. He was my friend." His answer pleased her. Her eyes softened.

"Dalin, release him." The shade bowed his head in acknowledgement as she held out the key to him. He took it and unlocked the chains that held Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer stared at his wrists in amazement.

"I give you your freedom, Jaime Lannister, on one condition: you say you served my father with loyalty? Prove it. Be the first to join my brother's Kingsguard. Protect him with your life. Your crimes will be absolved, even those as terrible as attempting to kill Brandon Stark.”

Rhaenys was familiar with the skill of the Kingslayer. She was aware that he'd killed Aerys because her grandfather had tried to burn all of King's Landing. Dalin had agreed that they would need a man like Jaime on the Kingsguard.  _So why not the Kingslayer himself?_ Besides, he had been kind to her as a child.  _Almost like an uncle._

"I-I don't understand." He stared at her in shock. He had not been expecting anything like this.

"I need loyal men to protect my brother. I offer you redemption. Serve us." She held her hand out to him.

It was clear he was having an eternal conflict. One side of him remained loyal to his house, she knew. But another remained loyal to her father and her. "It would be an honor. I accept."

Dalin offered Jaime his sword. He nodded, understanding what he had to do. He followed her as she led him to the Great Hall of Riverrun.

* * *

The King had been listening as his lords bickered over what their next move should be. He didn't notice Rhaenys had entered until the Hall went quiet.

"My King," she greeted him, as if nothing was wrong. As if the Kingslayer wasn't right behind her.

"Rhaenys? Have you taken leave of your senses? What is the Kingslayer doing here?" They had lost a good many men to capture the Kingslayer. Now, his sister had let him walk into their meeting, armed and without a guard.

He was furious, as were all the lords. Most of it was directed at her letting Jaime loose, but there was also a part that worried for her safety.

"Your Grace," Jaime said, kneeling before Jon. He laid his sword down at Jon's feet. "I would ask that you forgive me for anything I have done in the past. I have come to you pleading to be the first of your Kingsguard."

"Why should I accept you? Your son had my uncle executed. You let my father die at Robert Baratheon's hand, then swore to serve him. You killed my grandfather. Your father's men killed my half-brother, my sister's mother, and almost murdered Rhaenys. Why would you serve me?" Jon spoke with a low voice, calm but menacing.

"Jon, he is willing to swear his life to you. His skills with a sword are legendary. Please, consider allowing him to join," she whispered.

Her brother looked at her in confusion. "Rhaenys, he is the Kingslayer."

"Your Grace, please. I have realized what it is I have done wrong. I ask that you let me serve you. Allow me redemption for them by protecting you. If you do not want me, then give me whatever punishment you see fit. I do this for your father and your sister." Jaime's voice was pleading.

She could see was Jon thinking over his options. She offered a silent prayer to the Old gods that, whatever his decision, it was a good one. Her prayers were answered.

"Very well. You will swear to serve me until death. From now on, your life is mine." Her brother's eyes were hard. She knew he was doing this for her.

"I do, Your Grace. I swear it on the Old gods and the new." Jaime said.


	17. A Trap

"Your Grace, Walder Frey is willing to accept the offer to marry Lord Edmure to one of his daughters," the messenger said. They were all gathered in Lord Hoster's solar. The other lords sighed in relief. Everyone except Rhaenys.

 _This will be it. This will be the feast where Jon and our child will be killed, if I can't stop it._ Her hands were clenched at her sides as the man relayed the rest of the information to her brother.

"Thank you. Tell Lord Walder to begin preparations for the wedding. We will leave for the Twins soon." He dismissed everyone in the room. Jaime stood by the door. Rhaenys remained, Robb not far behind her.

Jon took off his crown and sighed. The role of king was weighing heavily on him. She wished that she could relieve him of all his burdens, but even as queen, there wasn't much she could do.

Robb stepped forward. "Brother, I'm sorry. If I had known marrying Jeyne would have caused so many problems, I would have thought twice about it."  _You knew the consequences when you laid with her, Robb._ _  
_

Her brother smiled at Robb, but she could see the sadness in his eyes. "Don't worry Robb. Soon this wedding will be over, and we can return to our conquest of the Westerlands."

The Young Wolf nodded and left, a small smile playing on his lips. Once the door closed, Rhaenys walked over to her brother. He was staring at the map laid across the table, as if it held all the answers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"What do you think about this?" he asked, turning to her.

"You shouldn't go." There was no doubt about it. She knew there was no chance in convincing him to reject Frey and take back the offer. So she would keep Jon out of harm's way.

"I have to. Lord Walder will only take it as a greater offense. I am the King. One of my most loyal bannermen is getting married because we need the alliance of the Frey's," he said. "I have to go."

Rhaenys couldn't keep the fear out of her voice as she asked him again. "Please Jon. Don't go."

He looked at her suspiciously. He knew her well enough to know that there was something she was hiding. "Are you alright? Is there something I should know?" Suddenly, she was at a loss for words.  _He might think me crazy. My accusation is based off a dream._

In that moment, however, Dalin appeared in the room. Over where Jaime stood in his white armor, he jumped in surprise. As the first of the Kingsguard, they had to let him in on the secret of Dalin. The shade still unnerved him, though. "Your Grace, I have urgent news." His voice was emotionless as he said this, but the shadows surrounding him writhed, never keeping still.

"What is it?" Jon asked.

"The wedding between Lord Edmure and Walder Frey's daughter? He is plotting with Tywin Lannister. It is a trap."

* * *

She paced her room impatiently. Dalin's report had saved her from telling Jon about her dream. It hadn't done anything to calm her nerves, however.

Jon had called all the lords back to discuss what they would do to stop the "Red Wedding," as Dalin referred to it as. He was standing by the window, listening to the war council and watching her.

"Damn Robb. Why did he have to marry that stupid Westerling girl?" she growled, seething.

"My queen, I think that even if Lord Stark hadn't broken his vows, it would have only changed who was marrying Walder Frey's daughter." He stepped over to her and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "It isn't his fault. You shouldn't blame him."

All the energy seemed to leave her as she sat down on her bed. She laid down, one hand over her stomach, feeling the little bump that was her son. "I know. I'm just so tired of the worry. Of the fear. If Jon dies, everything will have been for nothing."

"He will not die. This I swear to you, Rhaenys." he said softly. Dalin pulled her close, holding her as tears leaked from her eyes. "I will do everything I can to . . . dissuade Frey to not do this."

She looked up at him. Tears slid down her cheeks. He couldn't help but remember the times when she was little and the Sack of King's Landing haunted her every night. Though he didn't need it, he would always have a bed in his name to keep up appearances. After a few months, she began to come into his room - like she had when her father had lived - and would curl up next to his "sleeping" form.

"What if he doesn't listen?" she asked, sounding like a child.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. His words were soft, but hard. "Then he will die, and I will personally see that his House and everything he stands for are destroyed."


	18. A Warning

Walder Frey sat down in his chair. The feast hall was empty except for him. Only a few torches blazed along the walls, leaving most of the hall covered in shadows.

 _The King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Black Dragon, and his brother, the Young Wolf, will be here by tomorrow. We must be completely prepared._  When Tywin Lannister came to him and Lord Bolton with this plan, he had been hesitant.  _What if it doesn't work?_  But Tywin had managed to convince him otherwise.

 _He will pay for ignoring my daughters._ The Young Wolf had chosen some Westerland girl despite his vows - before the old gods and the new - to marry one of his girls. Their family insulted, he had ordered his men to return to the Twins. After he spoke with Tywin, they worked hard to make certain everything went according to plan. Not only would Robb Stark be killed, but this Targaryen boy, Jon.  _The King of Westeros? Ha! More like the King of the Dead._

Suddenly, one of the torches was blown out.  _Odd. There's no draft._

Another, on the other side of the wall went out. Then another. And another, until only two torches remained, those closest to him.

 _What is happening? Who is doing this?_ One of the two last torches died. The hall was left in almost complete darkness. Lord Walder saw movement in the shadows. A man stepped out.

He was covered from head to toe in black. His hood hid most of his face, though his eyes and the pale skin around them were visible. He didn't seem to be breathing. In his hand, he held a bow, an arrow nocked, and a Valyrian steel dagger hung on his thigh.

Before the Lord of the Crossing could cry for help, something cold slammed down on his mouth. His eyes looked down and he realized that a shadow had detached itself from the rest to ensure his silence. He gazed in fear at the man standing before him.

"Walder Frey." If death could speak, he was certain this was its voice.

"You will not attack the Black Dragon. If you do, you and your house will be destroyed." He paused to let his words sink in. "This is your warning." He let loose the arrow as the last torch guttered out, the darkness overwhelming it.


	19. The Red Wedding

The Rains of Castamere had never been a pleasant song to hear, in Rhaenys' experience. It was normally meant as a sign that someone was about to die. At least in her experience. And that was how it was being used. For once, though, it was someone that  _she_ wanted dead that would die. Sadly, they were unaware of their impending doom.

The Freys had played the part of a gracious host. They pretended as if Robb had never offended them. Everyone else was oblivious to the secret looks passed between them, of course.

She knew that Walder Frey was not to be insulted. Catelyn knew as well. The two had much more in common than either had thought. Together, they had done their best to make sure Jon would have a powerful kingdom when the war was over. And together they had watched as so many of their preparations were destroyed because of Robb's "honor."

Ever since that day, Rhaenys had Dalin watching the Freys. He had discovered the treachery they planned with the Lannisters and Boltons, the event they planned to call the Red Wedding. It would be exactly as her dream had shown her. So they had prepared for it.

Dalin's men were waiting in the shadows, prepared to defend the lords of the North. Others were waiting outside to warn the soldiers of the impending attack. She had had him threaten Lord Walder, hoping against hope that he would listen. Instead, he had gone through with Tywin Lannister's plan.

Her brother's army was prepared to fight back. So were all the lords in the hall. Even Rhaenys, although the baby growing in her stomach would truly not help once the attack began.  _This is what I get for being a dutiful wife._

She felt a hand squeeze hers. Her eyes moved away from Walder Frey's seat and looked up. Jon smiled down at her. Returning the smile, she once again turned to watch the Lord of the Crossing. Her brother sat down next to her.

"It will be alright. Everything will go according to plan," he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist. His hand was laying over her stomach protectively. She laid her head against his shoulder.

"But what if it doesn't? What if this has all been for nothing? What if . . ."

He chuckled. "You worry too much sister."

"Robb was a fool. You're the King. You could have stopped him." She muttered, staring at Robb as she said it. Jon followed her eyes. When she looked back to him, the exhaustion and irritation that stemmed from his cousin's mistake was evident on his face.  _All this trouble, because of a woman._ She sighed.  _At least the entire war wasn't fought over a woman._

"He did this behind my back. I could have ended their marriage, but what good would that have done? Even if Robb had married a Frey girl, he would have taken Jeyne as his mistress and spent more time with her than his actual wife. And like Dalin said, it might not have mattered anyway. It will be easier to win the war if we take care of any traitor's in our ranks." He smiled and kissed her lips.

She hadn't realized that Ghost was laying under the table until he put his head on her leg. His eyes made it seem as though he were saying  _it's for the best._  Rolling her eyes, she replied to Ghost by saying, "Robb was still an idiot," in an exasperated tone.

Jon laughed at how human his direwolf appeared as Ghost bobbed his head twice. Obviously, he agreed with her on her belief of Robb's marriage.

Walder Frey had wanted the wolves to be locked up. They might have complied, but Jon told the Lord of the Crossing no, claiming that he needed the wolves to be there in case anyone tried to kill him or one of his lords. The fear wasn't hidden very well in Walder's eyes.  _Good,_ she had thought.  _Fuck up his plans as best you can._ The wolves weren't the only guardians of the King of the Seven Kingdoms that Frey couldn't keep locked away. Jaime Lannister was in the hall too, prepared to defend his king. His expression was empty, but his eyes held mistrust.

Suddenly, the cry "Bed them!" rang through the hall and the newlyweds were surrounded by the attendants (mostly Freys, as she had ordered the majority of her brother's lords to remain with their king). Before they even left the feast, their clothes were being torn off and dropped on the floor. She noted that Robb did not join them. Lady Catelyn and some other lords remained. She could only guess how much that would infuriate Lord Walder.

The moment Robb had returned to Riverrun with his wife, Jeyne, Rhaenys had immediately sent word to her uncle in Dorne, asking him to send his army to the Riverlands. She admitted her fear of the Freys betraying them in the letter. Her caution had not been for nothing.

Once they learned of the plans for the Red Wedding, she ordered the Dorninsh army to remain behind the main host in order to take the Frey men unawares. The soldiers of the Twins would be greatly outnumbered, and her men would have surprise on their side. She and her brother had informed all the lords of this plan. All except for two.

Lord Bolton was a part of the treachery. To prevent Bolton men from learning their plans, she had any substance the men used to get drunk confiscated. No man was allowed to drink until the Red Wedding was over.

Though he was like a brother to Jon, Rhaenys needed to be certain Robb wouldn't cause anymore harm. The entire problem had been because of him. She did not want to risk him being any more foolish and trying to atone for his mistakes. And that wasn't the only reason she had insisted her brother not let Robb in on their plan. She did not trust Jeyne Westerling. The girl's mother was extremely loyal to Tywin. Jeyne could be reporting everything to her mother, who could be relaying the message to the Lannisters. Robb could tell her anything, and they would probably have all ended up dead.

She and Catelyn shared a look. They both knew what was going to come.  _Prepare yourself,_ they seemed to say to each other. Jon was acting serious now, his hand not far from his sword. It was the same with everyone who served him in the hall. Jaime began to move closer to his king, ready to kill any who tried to harm Jon. She did not doubt the men who were undressing Roslin Frey were also readying themselves as well. Robb could see the tension from the other lords, but he didn't understand it.

It wasn't long before the "Rains of Castamere" began to play and Edwyn Frey got up to close the doors. "Here we go," she whispered to her brother as the creaking of the doors could be heard. She had not worn a dress. Instead, she wore clothes similar to Jon's, and like all the lords and men, had hid armor beneath.

Now, she reached for the Valyrian sword she kept at her hip. Her brother and his men followed her lead. Ghost and Grey Wind bared their teeth and Grey Wind growled.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose.

The musicians traded their instruments for crossbows. Two managed to let loose an arrow, one at Jon and one at Robb before Dalin and his men slit their throats. She knocked her brother behind a table, shielding him from anyone else with crossbows. Robb wasn't so lucky. The arrow hit his chest, where his heart would have been if it hadn't been the opposite shoulder. Catelyn screamed as her son fell over.

Jon stood up and they joined the other lords in the fight. She watched as Grey Wind tackled and ripped out the throat of a man who was attempting to kill Robb. Screaming could be heard from the hallway. She guessed that the Greatjon had begun to fight.

Fear coursed through her as she saw Lord Bolton clash with her brother. Jon was excellent when it came to fighting with swords, but Roose Bolton was older and more experienced. She prayed to the old gods that Ghost was nearby to stop him. There wasn't time to watch her brother fight Bolton as a Frey man came at her.

She parried his blows, choosing to let him use all his strength. It worked. The man soon began to tire. Once his swings became slower, she pushed back. Before he could deflect her fourth blow, she had shoved her sword through his chest. Despite her victory, she couldn't help but still hold one hand over her baby. Frantically, she searched for her brother.  _Where is he?_  Her answer came in the sight of Roose Bolton's head rolling to her feet. She kicked it away and looked up to her brother. Bolton's body lay at his feet.

"Rhaenys, alert the Dornish!" her brother called as two more men rushed to fight him. Ghost quickly tore one down. Nodding, she ran to the door and, with Dalin's help, removed the bar. Frey men were waiting outside, about to attack the Northerners sitting at a table. Seeing her rushing to one of the towers, they realized what was happening and fought the Freys nearest to them. It was a chain effect. By the time she had grabbed a horse and ridden to where Oberyn Martell waited, both armies were engaged.

"It's time uncle!" she called, riding up to him.

"Excellent. The Black Dragon!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

"The Black Dragon!" they echoed. The Dornish army moved forward to join the fight.

* * *

When she returned to the hall, she found almost all Freys dead. Only Walder Frey and his wife really remained. Lord Walder sat in his chair that overlooked everything. His wife cowered beneath the table.  _We will spare her. She is a young, innocent child._  She had wanted to let the other women of the house to live, but Jon had refused her.

"You only need to look at yourself to know what that will bring." They agreed to let anyone who had not had their ninth name day yet to live. Everyone else was old enough to know what their family was planning.

Dalin appeared next to her and handed her the exact bow he had used when he had given their warning to Lord Walder. She walked over to where she and her brother had sat. Walder Frey gaped at her. He obviously recognized her weapon of choice.

Rhaenys pulled the string back to her lips.

"Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing." He was trembling in fear.

"You have failed this kingdom." She released her arrow.


	20. An Inside Job

"Are we prepared to march on Casterly Rock?" Jon looked over the map of Westeros, his lords gathered around him. Rhaenys stood to one side of him, Ghost on his other side. They were gathered in Riverrun, readying themselves to march and meet the Lannister army. It had only been a month since the Red Wedding. In that time, Dalin was nowhere to be found. It didn't matter how many times she would call to him, he wouldn't show.

"Aye. We'll send the lions running away with their tails between their legs." Victorian Greyjoy said this. Her uncle, Prince Oberyn had brought him back from the Iron Islands, along with the Iron Fleet. After Victorian explained that the Ironborn who had taken Winterfell had not acted under orders, Jon had welcomed them. And even though Victorian was Ironborn, he had taken a certain liking to her when he arrived. He held Jon in great respect, impressed with the King in the North's skills and leadership.

The other lords murmured their agreement. Their forces were considerably larger after Lord Tarly led most of the men from the Reach to join them. Mace Tyrell was sending his daughter, Margaery, and son, Loras, to secure their alliance. He had agreed to the marriage arrangement between his son Willas and Sansa. Although, whether they would actually be able to make good on that promise was in question. She had told Dalin to send some of his men to rescue Sansa and Arya, but he had disappeared before they could be returned. His sudden disappearance made her anxious.  _Something must have happened. It isn't like Dalin to just disappear._

"Good. Send a raven to King's Landing. Let them know that I will spare everyone's lives but Joffrey's if they surrender. We will see that my aunt abides by these terms as well. Tommen and Myrcella will be given as wards to one of our lords. Cersei will become a Silent Sister. Tywin Lannister will be exiled. Should he prove to be loyal, Tyrion Lannister will be given lordship of the Rock. If they refuse, we will crush them. I will not have it said that I didn't give them the chance they didn't give Eddard Stark." His eyes were dark. He didn't want to allow most of them to live, but he would.  _Because he is a good king._ The maester nodded, and was about to walk away when Jon spoke again.

"Tell them the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts."

Jaime, ever her husband's shadow, placed a hand on her arm. She realized that she had been gripping the table so hard her knuckles were white. Smiling at him, she tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, but to no avail. Between her pregnancy and Dalin, there had been little relief from her worries. Sighing in exasperation, she excused herself and walked outside.

A cold wind offered her greeting.  _Winter is coming,_  she couldn't help but think. And it was very true. It was autumn, winter not far away.  _I only pray we have enough food to last. This has been a long summer. It will be a long winter._

Her thoughts drifted to Bran and Rickon. The last they had heard, Theon Greyjoy had managed to stop Ramsay Snow's march to Winterfell before they reached it. For that she was thankful. Ramsay Snow was a cruel man. She could only imagine what ways he would torture Bran and little Rickon.

With a start, she noticed that she had walked to the Godswood. The face stared at her, it's sorrowful eyes following her wherever she went. The Queen couldn't help but smile at it. It was not the one in Winterfell, but it reminded her of her home.

"Are you unwell, Your Grace?" a voice said from behind her. She turned and found Jaime Lannister watching her carefully.

"Fine. Just thinking." Jon had begun to trust Jaime. She was glad; Jon would need people he could trust by his side if they were to win the war.

"Have you considered anyone else for the Kingsguard?" She knew he didn't want to fail another king. He had done very much to prove that he wouldn't fail Jon.

"No. There is so little time. Few men are worthy of it."

"Perhaps Ser Barristan Selmy will join you. He cares greatly for the Targaryens. You should send a raven to him."

 _Ser Barristan. Yes, he would make a good asset._ She could remember him from when she had lived in King's Landing, before the war. Like Jaime, he had been very kind. But he had been more than just a member of the Kingsguard. Aerys had never wanted to see her, to play with her. Ser Barristan, if he wasn't guarding the king, would come and fill that gap. She'd come to think of him as her grandfather. Rhaegar had gone to him for counsel many times, as had she. Although the advice she needed was always childish.  _What should I name this kitten? Which children should I play with? What do you think of this needlework?_ Always ridiculous questions.

"Yes. He would be good. Thank you for your suggestion, Ser." Rhaenys turned away from him and knelt in front of the weirwood tree. She could still sense Jaime's presence. She didn't care, though. He watched her as she prayed to the Old gods.  _Protect my brother. Protect my son. Protect our family. Protect our kingdom._ It was the same prayer she whispered to herself everyday.

When she was finished, Jaime offered her his arm. She took it and they walked through the halls of Riverrun.

"I have not seen Dalin lately. Is he doing something important?" He broke the silence, uncertainty in his voice.  _He doesn't know what to make of Dalin._

"That is the same question I have been asking myself since the Red Wedding. I have tried to summon him, but it is as if he can't hear," she said. _Or chooses to ignore me._

He was about to ask another question when Rhaenys gasped in pain. She leaned against Jaime for support, one hand over her stomach. "What is it, Your Grace? Is the child coming?" There was fear in his eyes. The child should not come for many more months. He could still remember how sickly her mother was. He was afraid that childbirth would kill her as it almost did Elia of Dorne. And he wasn't alone. Sometimes, Rhaenys wondered if she was as frail and would die giving birth. But after a few deep breaths, the pain subsided.

"No, no. I'm fine. This child just has wolf blood." She smiled, thinking of raising a child like Arya.

* * *

She was sitting in a chair, gazing out over the Trident when she heard the door open. Twisting around, she found Jeyne Stark's brother, Ser Raynald Westerling.

"What is it that you need, Ser?" She found it odd that he would come to her. They had only spoken once, when Robb had introduced her to Jeyne and her family. She didn't trust their family and tried to avoid them wherever she could. Although, as Jon and Robb are as close brothers, she spent considerable time in Jeyne's presence.

He didn't answer, just looked around. He closed the door behind him and walked over to the window. Looking out once, he nodded to himself, then closed the it.

She shifted in her seat. She was only about four to five months pregnant, but it was still exhausting. His attitude was making her anxious. _Something is wrong. I barely know this man. Why is he here?_ "Ser Raynald, did the King send you?"

Her words made him stop for a moment in examining the room and stare at her. He just stared for several minutes, then said, "Yes. The King has sent me here." He said it absentmindedly.

"Why did he send you? Has something happened? Is he alright?" There was a some panic in her voice.

It was as if she had set something off in him. He suddenly gripped her shoulders, fingers digging in, and pulled her up. He pushed her against a wall, his face inches from hers. One of his hands pinned both of hers behind her back. Her pregnency prevented her from using any skills Dalin had drilled into her. There was an anger in his eyes, something she had never seen before in him. "No. The King is not alright. Because of you, he is losing his kingdom."

Her mouth hung open in shock.  _What have I done that is making Jon lose the war?_ For a moment, she feared that perhaps the Freys had somehow survived and had attempted to get their revenge.  _No, the Freys are dead. I killed Walder Frey myself._

"What did I do?" she whispered it, afraid of his answer. A part of her knew that she had done nothing, but another part was scared and wanted to know what this stranger was talking about.

He growled at her. "You made the bastard a king. You stole Joffrey's kingdom. You have turned his lords against him. That is treason. And treason is punishable by death."

From his belt, he produced a dagger. He kissed the blade, then lay it against her throat. "You should have died in King's Landing, just like your brother and your whore of a mother."

Everything made sense to her now. Why he had been checking her room, not answering her questions at first.  _We won the Crag. We never won the Westerlings._ "You never served my brother. You were always loyal to the Lannisters, you son of a bitch." she hissed, spitting venom with every word.

His grip tightened. "You do not talk about your king or his family like that," he said, the dagger slowly making its way down until it laid against her belly. Against her baby. She paled.  _Not my son. Not my son, please._ He smiled sadistically. "They would probably want me to punish you in any way I see fit." Suddenly his lips were on hers, forcing her mouth open and filling it with his tongue. As soon as his lips left hers, she screamed.

"Help!" she managed to cry out before the hand he had used to hold her hands back clamped down on her mouth. There was a knock on the door as one of her guards yelled if she was alright. When she didn't answer, he banged on the door. Vagely, she heard someone shout to get the King. _Dalin, where are you when I need you?_

* * *

Jaime watched the proceedings with a bored expression. He wanted to serve his king. That didn't mean he enjoyed listening to the small folk anymore than Jon did. The King hid his boredom behind an expressionless mask. They had been in the hall for at least two hours, hearing the people that came to complain of their problems. Not once had King Jon raised his voice or grown angry at them. Instead, he would reply to them calmly, telling the people that he would solve whatever it was that was bothering them as soon as he could.  _He is definitely better at being king than Joffrey or Robert. He is Rhaegar's son indeed._

He had noticed that, halfway through the second hour, Ghost had grown anxious. He had been pacing the room, looking at the door to the Great Hall. Sometimes he would bare his teeth at invisible enemies.  _What is wrong?_

Ghost's behavior was explained when a guard ran into the hall, out of breath. Jon looked at Jaime with concern.

"Your Grace, the Queen is locked in her chambers. We heard her call for help, but she won't open the door." Jaime felt his heart stop.  _No, not Rhaenys. We cannot lose her. She cannot die like the rest._

The man had barely finished before Jon was grabbing Longclaw from beside the seat of House Tully and was running to their chambers. Jaime was right behind him, already unsheathing his sword.  _If they hurt her, there won't be a single place in this world or the next where I won't find them,_ he promised himself.

* * *

"You will not get away with this," Rhaenys said, trying to stall. She hoped that if she could make him talk long enough, Jon or Dalin would come. _Where is he?_

Ser Raynard glared at her. There was a ferocity behind his eyes. He truly wanted her dead. He wanted her son dead, too. If Eddard was killed, Jon would have no heir.

"Tell me, is Jeyne a part of this? Did she trick Robb to fall in love with her so that you could get close to me?" Her hands were trembling. She desperately tried to steady them, but it was no use. This man hated her with all his heart, and he was going to kill her and her son.  _Just like mother._ She could hear Princess Elia's screams.

"No. My sister is in love with the Young Wolf. But she will be made to see her wrongs once I cut off his head." He smiled at the thought. It sickened Rhaenys.

There was another bang at the door. She could hear Jon calling her name.  _I'm so sorry, my love._

Her captor placed the dagger back at her neck. "The King has come to say goodbye to his Queen. Perhaps I should let him in to watch as I cut out your babe and slit your throat."

The end was near. She could tell. Soon Jon would get through. If Ser Raynard was going to kill her, he had to do it now. He sensed that as well. She saw his muscles tense, as he prepared to kill her. She closed her eyes, and pictured Jon's face.  _This isn't how it was supposed to go._

Suddenly, Raynard's grip on her disappeared as he was pulled away from her. At first she thought that it was Jon, that he had broken through the door without her hearing. But then she noticed the shadows that coiled around the his body like snakes.

"You shouldn't have done that," Dalin whispered, his sword sticking out of Ser Raynard's chest. Somehow, his quiet voice made him all the more frightening, even more demonic. She smiled. Her old friend had returned.

One of the shadows wrapped itself around the knight's neck, tightening slowly. He whimpered. Dalin was a fearsome sight. His eyes, usually black as night, were red like a fire. They portrayed anger and hate. The shadows covered every inch of his body and began to squeeze even more, forcing out whatever life Dalin's sword had not taken.

"I will make sure you rot in hell," Dalin whispered as Ser Raynard died. The shadows left, dropping the pale body of Ser Raynard.

"My queen, I am sorry." he said to her as she fell into his arms. He held her letting her sob into his shoulder. He motioned with his head toward the door and one of his men stepped over and unlocked the door.

Jon and Jaime ran in, swords in hands. When they saw Dalin, they visibly relaxed. Jon walked over kissed her. He nodded his thanks to the shade before ordering Jaime to find the Westerlings.

"They will pay for this," he swore.


	21. Justice for Treason

Rhaenys sat, both hands pressed against her stomach. They were in the Great Hall. The Westerlings were standing before them. Jeyne was among them. Robb had been angry when Jaime had marched into their rooms and commanded that the Young Wolf's wife and her family be brought to the King on the charge of treason.

"Jon, what is the meaning of this? Jeyne has done nothing!" he shouted. One look from Jon, however, silenced him.

Her brother turned his attention to all the lords gathered. "Ser Raynald Westerling attempted to murder my wife and unborn child. For this reason, I accuse House Westerling of treason."

There was an uproar as everyone began shouting at once. Many of the lords (Northerners especially) began calling for their heads. Prince Oberyn was one of these lords, as to be expected. The Westerlings cried that they had taken no part in Ser Raynald's assassination attempt. It was Robb that raised his voice above all the others, and everyone quieted to listen.

"Brother, surely you must be mistaken. Jeyne is my wife. I know for certain she, nor any of her family would ever try to kill Rhaenys." He looked at Jon angrily, never once taking his hand off of Jeyne's shoulder. Jon only gave him a cold stare before nodding to Jaime.

Without a word, Jaime had the doors opened. The lords turned to look and one of Jeyne's younger sisters cried out at the sight.

Dalin came in, dragging the body of Ser Raynald behind him. He walked naturally, as if the body weighed nothing. Which it probably did to him. He continued until he reached Jon. There, he let go and stood next to Rhaenys, his hands laid protectively on her shoulders. Jon had been grateful when the shade had saved his sister, but he had also been very angry.

* * *

"Why couldn't you have stopped him before he almost killed Rhaenys?" Jon had growled when he had sent some men to gather the lords and bring the Westerlings to face justice.

 _Well, this is certainly familiar,_  Rhaenys thought to herself.  _When Ned Stark killed the three Kingsguard in the Tower of Joy._ She had been enraged and asked why Dalin couldn't have stopped them all from killing each other.

He had answered her in the same monotone voice that he used to answer her brother. "Because, Your Grace, we work and fight in the shadows. Had Ser Raynard sent word to Tywin Lannister or received orders demanding he kill Rhaenys, we would have known and stopped him. But he told no one. We are shades. That does not make us mind readers."

* * *

There was an eerie silence as they all took in the sight before them. It was Lord Gawen, Jeyne's father, that broke it.

"You murdered my son!" he shouted. The guards had to hold him back to stop him from charging at Jon.

"Your son committed an act of treason. He almost killed your Queen and my heir. Death was his punishment." Her brother had a furious look. Standing up, he walked over to where Lord Gawen kneeled. The King was not in a mood to be argued with.

"My brother would never do something like that!" Jeyne was the one who screamed this. She ran at Jon before anyone could stop her. Tears streamed down her face as she began to hit his chest with her fists. Robb grabbed her shoulders and hugged her, murmuring words of comfort as he glared at his cousin.

"I don't care what you think he would do. What he actually did is something else entirely. He has paid for his crime. The question remains of where the loyalties of House Westerling lies." Nothing could move the King in the North. Not a man's fury, not a woman's tears.

They said nothing, just continued to give him angry looks. He sighed. "Leave us," he demanded. The lords complied. He turned to the guards that watched over the Westerlings. "Take them to the dungeons. Lady Stark too." The only one who remained with them was Robb. His hands were fists at his sides, his knuckles white.

"You have no right to charge my wife and her family with these lies and imprison them." His voice trembled with anger.

Jon whipped around. "No right? You made me your King. Twice your Queen has almost been killed because of the Westerlings. Because of what you did. The first time, you decided that a Frey wasn't worthy of the great Young Wolf, so instead, you married a Lannister loyalist. The Freys might have killed all of us. Now, your wife's brother has tried to kill Rhaenys in our own chambers. I will not suffer from your mistake any longer." He turned away and looked out a window.

There were a few moments of silence as Robb processed Jon's words before he spoke again. "Tomorrow you and Jeyne will go down to the Sept. There, the Septon will release you of your marriage vows. It will be as if you were never married. Then we will send word to Highgarden. Margaery Tyrell will arrive in a few days. You two will be married to ensure the loyalty of House Tyrell. As for House Westerling, they will be stripped of their lands and titles and we will give the Crag to another House."

"No, no, Jon, please . . ." Robb pleaded, his voice a whisper.

"Yes. You brought this down on yourself." Her brother left without another word. It was a little while before Rhaenys followed. She knew exactly where he'd be.

* * *

Jon was in the godswood. He was kneeling beside the weirwood, eyes closed, trying to let go of his anger and guilt. Rhaenys put her hand on his shoulder.

"You did what you had to do." she said, sitting down next to him.

"Yes. That doesn't make it any less hard."

"You are the King. It is your duty to protect your people. But you must also protect yourself."

He looked over at her. Again she was reminded that only a few months ago, he had still been a boy. He had been forced to become a man before he was ready. She recalled the words that Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch had offered him.

 _"Kill the boy. Kill the boy and let the man be born," he had said._ And that was exactly what Jon was doing. He was killing anything that remained of the boy he once was.


	22. The New Contender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twist involved in this chapter. Mwuhahaha. I hope this has you considering the future conflicts to come in this story.

Across the Narrow Sea

Griff watched as the boy sparred with Duck.  _He's getting better. He will be great, just like his father._ The boy was definitely improving.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Septa Lemore. She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. "The cheesemonger is here," she said. He sighed. Illyrio Mopatis had given them help for many years. But Griff still did not like him.

He followed Lemore into the mansion. The house was large, almost a palace. It belonged to the cheesemonger, of course. Inside, it was elegantly decorated. Paintings covered the walls and numerous items of different sizes and styles littered the house, a show of the extravagent wealth of Illyrio Mopatis.

The cheesemonger was seated at a long oak table, stretching across the large dinning room. Food of all kinds were placed on the tabletop. Seeing the food made Griff feel both hungry and disgusted. Although he wasn't literally hungry, they did not normally eat so well. Their meals were usually simple, eating only the amount they needed to survive and a little more. But watching the cheesemonger eat it - grease dripping down his chin and fingers, gulping down wine and stuffing his face - made Griff almost miss the simple meals. Almost.

He sat down next to Illyrio. The cheesemonger offered him food and drink but he declined. They didn't come to Illyrio often and when they did, it meant something had happened. He wanted to get right down to business. The cheesemonger could tell.

"We have received news from Westeros," Illyrio began.  _No, you received it a long time ago. You've just chosen now to tell me._

The cheesemonger paused. "Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark are dead. Both murdered by the Lannisters. Now, Ned Stark's son, Robb, marches South to kill the Lannisters."

"As glad as I am to hear that, it is not important enough for us to be here. Why have you brought us back?" The cheesemonger was beginning to annoy him.

"Robb Stark does not ride alone. He has most of Westeros fighting alongside him."

"What? How?" At this, the cheesemonger smiled knowingly.

"He, as well as those that fight with him, have raised their banners for the Targaryens. They are fighting to put them on the Throne."

Griff laughed aloud, relief evident on his face. "So you've managed to get them all to declare for Aegon? Wonderful. We'll return to Westeros immediately." He started to rise, but the cheesemonger's expression made him stop. For once, the cheesemonger looked almost threatening. He motioned for Griff to sit back down.

"They have declared for a king, but it is not Aegon. Rather, his half-brother, Jon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."

"It-it makes no matter. We'll go to Westeros and with Dorne's support, march against this usurper." The idea that Rhaegar had another son was inconceivable, even more so that this boy was taking Aegon's throne.

"Dorne has pledged itself to King Jon."

He chuckled nervously. "Even if this boy is who he claims to be, Dorne would never raise their banners for the son of Lyanna Stark."

"They are sworn to him because of his wife, Lord Connington."

"And who might this whore be?"

"Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon's sister."

Dread filled Griff.  _No, no. Rhaenys is dead. She would never marry this bastard._  He hadn't realized he'd said that aloud until the cheesemonger answered him.

"She is, my lord. Varys smuggled her out before she could be killed in the Sack. For many years, she's kept an eye on Jon Targaryen. He was believed to be Ned Stark's bastard."

"She wouldn't just let him take her throne - Aegon's throne - and let herself be married to him so he could use her however he wanted to." Suddenly, images of Rhaenys being raped by this so-called Targaryen overwhelmed him.  _By the Gods, we have to save her._ The cheesemonger had the nerve to laugh at his words.

"What is so funny?"

"She was the one who declared him king. And he didn't force her into a marriage. She willingly agreed to marry him. In fact, she is with his child, a few months away from birth."

This news was so shocking, Griff feared he might fall out of his seat.  _Rhaenys should be married to Aegon. She is supposed to be his queen. Now, she's married this Stark bastard and is carrying his child. What the hell is happening?"_

"We can win back Westeros though, right? We can end their marriage and make Aegon king, can we not?"

"I doubt it. The people love King Jon. He is just and kind and fights for them. He doesn't wish to be king but has stepped up to be their ruler because he knows that they need a leader. Taking Westeros away from him may prove near impossible. Attempting to marry Rhaenys to Aegon may be even harder. She is desperately in love with her half-brother."

Griff took a few moments to process everything he had learned. Quickly, he excused himself and left to return to the others. They were waiting for him in the yard. Surprisingly, it had started to drizzle. They stared at him expectantly. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to give them this shocking information.

"Returning to Westeros may not be as easy as we thought."

"Why not?" Aegon asked. Griff could barely meet the boy's eyes.  _His father's eyes. Does the bastard have Rhaegar's eyes, or the Stark bitch's eyes?_

"The Usurper is dead, so is Lord Stark." They all smiled, but his next words destroyed any joy they'd had. "Aegon, you're half-brother by Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar has been declared king. Almost all of Westeros fights for him. Dorne does too."

"But if he is Lyanna Stark's son, wouldn't Dorne consider it so much of an insult that they would never declare for him?" Septa Lemore - Ashara Dayne - asked.

"They might have, had the boy not married your sister, Aegon."

The boy's face was one of complete and total shock. "My sister's alive?"

"Yes."

"And she'd married this-this Stark?"

"Yes. She carries his child."

Betrayal burned in the boy's eyes. "Why would she choose him over me? It is because of the boy that all this happened!"

"I don't know. I don't know," he whispered. He feared for what would happen now. Already a war had been fought over a woman and a kingdom. It had resulted in Rhaegar and Elia's death. Now, they were facing very similar circumstances.  _If Jon Targaryen doesn't step down and give up Rhaenys, Aegon may be foolish enough to fight him over them._


	23. Inner Conflicts

They had left Riverrun a week before. The King's army now marched for Casterly Rock. There, they would split up. Half of the army would distract the Lannister force and the other half would begin the attack on the Rock.

Pregnant and still recovering from her near-death experience, Rhaenys rode with her husband. Dalin may not have been right next to her, but she could feel his presence. It gave her some small comfort.

 _We may not survive this war long enough to see Eddard grow. He may never be born if we fail._ She knew that trying to fool Tywin Lannister was not an easy - or necessarily smart - thing to do.  _He hasn't stayed in power for so many years by being an idiot. This man is truly dangerous. If we do not do this right, we will all die._

"What troubles you, sister?" She jumped in surprise to hear Jon's voice. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't heard her brother approach.

"The same thing that troubles me every time you ask." It was never the same exact thing that worried her, but it always had to do with the chance of failure. There was too much at stake now.

"It will be fine. We will defeat the Lannisters and reclaim what is ours." She knew his words should have reassured her, but they did not.

She didn't say anything else, just stared in silence as they rode on.

* * *

They encountered no issues until they stopped at the Crag. It had been less than two weeks since the Westerlings were stripped of everything and Robb married to Margaery Tyrell. He bore no ill will towards the former Lady Tyrell, but the wounds brought on by his first wife's punishment were still fresh. And he still hadn't forgiven Jon.

"I don't want to be here." His words surprised all the lords gathered. Everyone looked up. Well, everyone except Jon.

"It doesn't matter. We need to stay somewhere to let the army rest and replenish our supplies if we are to take on the Lannister army."

"I will not stay here to be reminded of everything I've lost. Everything you took from me." Now Jon looked up. His eyes were cold. A wise man would have backed down. But the Young Wolf was blinded by grief.

The King's voice was low and dangerous. "Lord Stark is tired. Guards, see him to his chambers."

Two men stepped up on either side of Robb Stark. He looked more like a prisoner than the King's cousin as they escorted him out. No one said anything more about Lord Stark, but Rhaenys could see that a few were a bit uneasy. It was to be expected. Jon had a temper like any Targaryen, and these days, he was at his breaking point.

* * *

She found two guards outside of Robb's chambers. They nodded to her as she entered. Robb was leaning against the wall, staring outside.

"Robb?" she asked quietly. He didn't turn to look at her. Grey Wind sat in a corner, watching her as she entered.

"Why is this happening? Why are the gods so cruel?" She could hear the pain and anguish in his voice. Maybe once, it would have broken her heart, made her want to run to him and hug him and promise that everything was going to be okay. But she had been asking herself the same questions for many years until she finally reason that the gods were just cruel. Yes, she could understand his pain, but she knew that he had to get over it. If he pondered on it for too long, it would consume him.

"I don't know. I remember what it felt like, to be confused, to wonder why they chose you of all the people in Westeros to suffer." He turned around to face her. There was shock on his face. He obviously hadn't been expecting her to understand. Sighing, she sat down on the edge of his bed, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"During the Sack of King's Landing, I could hear my brother crying before they bashed his head against a wall. I cried almost as much as him, asking myself why they would kill an innocent child. I could hear my mother's screams as the Mountain raped her. I screamed too, wondering how the gods could make someone so selfless as Elia of Dorne suffer like that. When I learned of my father's death, I felt as though Robert Baratheon had crushed  _my_  chest in. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't cry, couldn't scream. I didn't feel anything. Everything that I cared about had been stripped from me for no reason." She looked up from her hands and saw that her pain was mirrored in Robb's eyes.

"Sometimes these things just happen. There is nothing we can do to stop it." She stood up. "If you spend too much time thinking about it, you will be forever stuck in the past, and it will destroy you."

He had turned to look back outside the window, no doubt considering her words.

* * *

Jon was in their chambers, looking over reports. Ghost was laying by his feet. As she walked in, he got to his feet and came to sit in front of her. He nudged her leg, licking her hand. She smiled and patted his head.

"Life was easier when I was Ned Stark's bastard," her brother said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"What? And give up your crown?" she joked. He smiled a little at her words, but it was honestly just a ghost of a smile.

"Why anyone wants to be king, I will never understand."

"That's why you will be one of the greatest. You see it as a duty, something you need to do, rather than a prize. You were raised as a bastard. You know the pains of being a commoner. But you have also been raised as though you were a trueborn lord. You understand their ways as well. The people love you. The lords love you. Most importantly, I love you," she whispered, pressing her lips against his.

He kissed her reverently, as though it would be their last time. And indeed, it might very well be. Jon would be leading the half of the army that attacked Casterly Rock. If Tywin didn't fall for their distraction, it was obvious he would head immediately for the Rock.

She pushed him back gently, looking into his eyes as she spoke. "Promise me that you'll be safe."

Kissing her forehead and pulling her closer, he answered, "Don't worry. I'll come back."


	24. Dark Wings, Dark Words

They were standing in the courtyard of the Crag. The army was leaving to attack Casterly Rock. To say Rhaenys was worried was a bit of an understatement. Her hands shook as she watched Jon give final orders to those remaining. He had gone to battle before, but never had they taken such a risk. To take the Rock . . . if they failed they would almost certainly lose the war.

Her brother was now speaking with Robb. The argument a few days earlier was taking its toll. They were willing to put aside their differences for now, but it was only a matter of time before it would resurface. Already, they were more distant. It saddened her. If you looked at them now, they would look like a King and a lord rather than the brothers she knew they once were.

"Lord Stark, I am trusting you and Prince Oberyn to protect the Queen. Should we fail, you are to take her to White Harbor. You will sail to Meereen and join my aunt, Daenerys Targaryen." They'd already been over the plan, but she knew that he wanted to be sure that it was clear.

Robb nodded stiffly. "Yes, Your Grace."

Satisfied, Jon came over to where she stood. They embraced, and she wished that they would never have to let go. But he eventually broke away. Giving her a kiss (perhaps the last one they would ever share), he murmured goodbye. He mounted his horse and, with Ghost and Ser Jaime at his side, led the army away to Casterly Rock.

* * *

She hated it. Hated pregnancy, hated the Lannisters, hated not being able to fight with Jon. She especially hated Dalin at that moment. The shade was being very stubborn in refusing to allow her to go anywhere but the Crag. And life was exceptionally boring there.

Robb was not taking it well. He'd been angry enough when he believed that he would aid Jon in taking Casterly Rock. But then they fought and Jon chose to leave his cousin with her.

"He's too emotional. He'll get in the way," her brother had said.

Now, Robb just spent all his time either wandering around aimlessly or pacing his room like a caged wolf.

The most interesting thing that happened besides the letters (which were few) they received from the marching army was when Ser Barristan the Bold arrived to pledge his loyalty to the rightful King of Westeros.

She awaited him in the Great Hall, looking every inch a queen. Her hair was loose, falling down to her shoulders. Her dress, made of the revealing Southern silks, was the traditional black and red of House Targaryen. Next to her, ever her silent guardian, stood Dalin.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said, kneeling before her.

"Rise, Ser." Her voice carried through the hall. He rose, standing at attention. He was wearing his Kingsguard armor, she didn't fail to notice.

"Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness. When your father died at the Trident, I bent the knee to Robert Baratheon, betraying your family. To atone for my mistakes, I ask to join your husband's Kingsguard, to protect him and his family from all threats." Hearing his voice reminded her of how close she had been to him before Robert's Rebellion. Some might have refused and have him executed for betraying them. But he was the grandfather she had never had.

"You do not need to be forgiven. Of course you may join. You have long since proved that you are a capable knight. Any King would be lucky to have you by their side."

* * *

It seemed as though the moment Ser Barristan swore to serve her brother, Dalin left. The shade was gone often but it had been one month since Ser Barristan came and one month since she last saw her closest friend. She didn't understand until she received a letter from the Blackfish.

_Your Grace,_

_The King has been gravely injured in battle. We have fallen back, the Lannister host following. We may have to retreat all the way back to Riverrun if we cannot come up with some plan to drive the Lannisters farther into the Westerlands._

_Ser Brynden Tully._


	25. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks to everyone that has commented or left kudos. It means a lot to me. Thank you.

Rhaenys was pacing her room. Pacing, pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. For hours she'd been doing this. She'd rejected anyone, even those with food. Gods, it had been so long since she last ate. But she couldn't care.  _Jon is hurt. Jon is hurt._

The door opened. Someone walked in. They put a hand on her shoulder. She shook them off. Unless they could tell her about Jon, she didn't care. None of it mattered.

"Rhaenys," they said. She recognized Robb's voice. This was the first time he'd tried to talk with her. Oberyn and Ser Barristan had both tried many times, but neither of them had made any impression on her. Now, the Young Wolf was going to try.

"Rhaenys, you need to eat and sleep." He tried once again to stop her. Once again she shook off his hand. Suddenly, he grabbed her entire arm, practically ripping it out of its socket as she began to walk away.

"No, no, it doesn't matter," she whispered. She hadn't realized that she was crying until Robb lifted his hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears falling from her eyes.

"He will live. He will survive. Then he'll win the war. And you can rule together, just the two of you," he said in an attempt to comfort her.

She placed both hands on his chest, pushing him away. "I don't care about ruling. I want Jon back. I want him to be whole and living and in my arms." She was choking on her sobs now.  _I can't be alone. Not again._

"Leave me," she said in an eerily calm voice. He didn't argue, just bowed his head and left.

* * *

_She must have listened to their advice at some point, because she found herself back in Winterfell. It was impossible, Winterfell was leagues away and the war was not won. They couldn't just leave the Westerlands._

_There was no baby growing in her belly, another sign that it was a dream. She was at least five months pregnant, if not more. If she had lost the babe, she would have felt it._

_And Jon was standing next to her._

_His arms were wrapped around her middle, holding her against his chest. He was laying a trail of hot kisses down her throat and across her shoulder._

_"I've missed you," he whispered against her ear._

_"This isn't real," she answered, though she desperately wanted to believe it._

_"Does it matter? We're together again. Everything is how it should be."_

_"No, not how it should be." If everything was how it should be, neither of their parents would be dead, the Lannisters wouldn't have power, and there would be no war. But that was how it was._

_"You're right." He turned to look behind them. "Eddard, come see your mother," he called._

_There was a giggle, then a little boy with dark, curly hair and brown eyes came running to them. Jon picked him up and held him in the air. The boy screamed with joy. She watched them, torn between the fear of something happening and the need to go to her son, to see, kiss him, hold him. Jon noticed her uncertainty._

_"Go to your mother," he whispered in the boy's ear. He set their son down, and the boy slowly toddled up to her. Grabbing her skirt with one hand, he reached up as if to grab her with the other. Slowly, she bent down and lifted him off the ground._

_"Mama," he said._

* * *

When she woke up, she was in her chambers, at the Crag, not Winterfell. Jon was farther in the Westerlands, taking Casterly Rock. And her baby still grew in her stomach, confirmed by the swell of her belly. She rubbed one hand over it tenderly. _A little boy with dark curls and brown eyes._ For once, her dreams had been happy, not filled with omens of death and destruction. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to the old gods.

There was a knock at the door.

"Your Grace?" A voice she knew well. Robb Stark.

"Enter," she said, sitting up in bed and covering her waist with her sheets. Lord Stark entered, an excited look in his eyes.

"Your Grace, a raven from Ser Jaime Lannister has arrived. He writes that they are now forcing the Lannisters back, and have a plan of action to take the Rock." She resisted - with great effort - the urge to run to him, to shake him and make him tell her everything and anything Jaime had said about the King.

"That is good," she answered distractedly. "And, the King . . ." her voice trailed off, quavering with apprehension for the worst, for the words that would tell her that Jon was dead and it had all been for nothing.

Robb looked down at his feet, unable to meet her eyes that seemed equally grieving and mad. "There was nothing in his letter about King Jon."

Rhaenys sucked in a breath, trying desperately to control the rage of emotions inside, to decipher what it could mean.  _Does he say nothing because he does not wish to be the one to tell the Queen that her husband is dead? Or does he say nothing because the King is healing and there isn't much to tell? There is only one way to find out,_ she thought, standing up and walking briskly to the chest at the foot of her bed.

"My Queen?" Robb asked in confusion.

"Prepare a group of men. I will be leaving to join our forces in the Westerlands."  _And Jon,_ she didn't add, though it was very much implied.

"Your Grace, I must protest. You are by no means fit for that much travel. Even if you were not carrying a child, your destination is a marching army, in the middle of a war, in the enemy's territory. They could be attacked at any given moment. And there's the possibility that you might not make it to them. The Lannisters know that land better than we do. You could run into a scouting party and be taken hostage. How are we to win if the enemy holds our Queen hostage?" His voice rose in volume, until he was practically shouting at her. But she took no offense. It was his duty to protect her and, though he and Jon were fighting, he loved his brother and his queen.

"So come with me," she stated simply, placing clothes she would need for the journey where she had been laying moments ago.

"What?"

She came to stand in front of him. "If you are so concerned about my safety, then come with me to be certain no harm comes to me." As she said this, one of her hands came to rest on his cheek.

At first, he looked as though he was ready to argue more. But slowly, the rationality of her idea became apparent, and he only nodded his head in silent approval.

"Good." She dropped her hand to continue packing. "We leave at first light."


	26. Fight

Traveling was difficult to say the least. Rhaenys was usually worn out and exhausted by the first few hours. The number of men - fifteen, to be exact - did not help to speed their progress. They were all fully armed and loaded down with supplies and weapons. It was all unnecessary, but Robb had refused to allow them to leave without it all. Ser Barristan had sided with him, claiming that it was wartime and an unprepared run-in with enemy soldiers could prove to be the downfall of the Targaryens.

It would have made things so much easier had Dalin agreed to remain with her. But, as was his usual behavior nowadays, the shade was nowhere to be found. His absences were becoming very, very irritating.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should stop now," one of the men said.

"No. There are still hours left in the day. We will carry on." And that was true. It was only midday.

"Very well, Your Grace," he said, backing off. She sighed.  _I will be happier once we reach Jon._

* * *

The farther they rode into the Westerlands, the more it became obvious that there was a war going on. Sometimes they would come across a body or two in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, they would find where entire battles had taken place. The ground would be strewn with bodies, crows, weapons, and armor. Sometimes, they would find the remnants of a camp, littered with burned supplies and tents. There was almost no end to the destruction they would find as they got closer and closer to their destination.

 _Did Jon do this? Did he kill these men while they slept? Or did Tywin Lannister decide to fight his enemy in the dark of night?_ Many times Rhaenys had been witness to death. But every camp or battlefield they passed left a sick feeling in her stomach, as though she could bend over and empty the contents of her last meal at any given moment.

Once, as they passed an old campground, she had broken down and sobbed until she could cry no more. A boy - of an age with Bran - hung from a tall cross. Chains were wrapped around him, the only thing keeping his body together. He was unrecognizable. He didn't even look human, so destroyed was his face. On the boy's surcoat was the sigil of House Stark. A sign had been nailed just below that. It read:

_But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_with no one there to hear._

_Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_and not a soul to hear._

They had long since ridden past. The camp had been left days ago. And yet, every time she laid down to sleep, all she could see was the young boy's face. And guilt overcame her. She would weep through the night, even if Robb came to lie down next to her and hold her as she shook because she knew, deep down she knew that she had been the one who had sentenced the boy - the boy who had been young and full of life - to die.

* * *

They could hear the camp before it came into sight. The sounds of metal clashing, men laughing and shouting, horses whining, and women shrieking met their ears. It was not a battle, that much she could tell easily. Had there been a battle, the sounds would be double, men and horses alike would be screaming in pain and the unmistakable sound of charging hooves and feet would be heard. No, this was no battle. Only the in-between of the last and the next.

Ser Barristan had suggested dressing as a commoners, so as to hide their true identities. They were so close, she had not wished to stop and change. The disguise had been useful in their travels, but now it was a nuisance. Men called out lewd comments to her. Some would suggest that she warm their bed for the night. Others would demand that they fuck her, here and now for everyone to see. She saw her guards tightening their grips on their swords, each one loyal to their queen and unwilling to allow such insult. But each time, she would shake her head, telling them to let the men say what they want, it will do nothing.

There was no trouble until they found the command tent.

They had dismounted, Rhaenys with the help of Robb. She had begun to walk to the entrance, leaving her escort to unpack and take care of their horses, when a hand clamped down on her arm. She was pulled roughly to face the man who held her. He was a peasant, no doubt of that, though he had risen to become a captain. His teeth were yellow, his eyes hungry and his mouth formed into a crude grin. It smelled like he had not bathed in days, and his hair was matted with dirt and sweat and grime.

"Why don't you come to my bed? I'll get a better bastard on you than whatever whore's boy did," he said, one hand sliding down first to her stomach, then slightly to between her legs. His grip had tightened as he spoke, and his mouth was barely a hair's breadth away. She was vaguely aware of her men drawing their swords, but could only truly focus on the anger that boiled in her veins that this man would dare do such a thing to her. She brought her free hand as far back as she could before pushing it forward with all the force she could muster into his jaw. Shocked, he fell to the ground, one hand holding where she had hit him tenderly.

"I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I am married to the Black Dragon and I carry his son inside of me!" She yelled, her voice hoarse with the sudden anger. Calmly and with more control, she added, "The next time you lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands."

Without another word, she marched away into the command tent, leaving a stunned guard and an even more stunned captain gaping in her wake.

* * *

The men inside her tent were almost as surprised to see her face as those she had left outside. They had quickly stood up, bowing low and murmuring things like, "Welcome, Your Grace," and "It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace." She nodded, coming to stand next to Ser Jaime and Brynden Tully. The two exchanged a look.

"Your Grace," Jaime began, "do not get me wrong, it is an honor to have you with us, but why are you here?"

"It is my duty as Queen to see that we win this war. And I wish to see my husband." Before either could say anything more, she gestured toward the map laying on the table. "What is this plan to take the Rock?"

For the moment, the issue of her coming was put aside. "We have already used a distraction. Tywin Lannister will not fall for it twice. Our only hope of getting Casterly Rock with minimum bloodshed would be to take individual teams into the city and attack with surprise on our side. We had been discussing the leaders of the teams when you came in, Your Grace," the Blackfish stated.

"Good. How long before we can put this plan to action?"

"Within the week," Jaime said.

"Excellent." She gazed up to regard the rest of the lords. "You are dismissed."

They complied leaving only Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, the Blackfish and the Young Wolf, who had entered the tent not long after she. A moment of silence reigned before Jaime looked to Ser Barristan and said, "Good to see you have come to serve the true King, Ser Barristan."

"Yes. I would like to see the rightful rulers placed on the throne before I die," the old man replied. She allowed the four men to exchange greetings and words. When several minutes had passed, she decided it was time to accomplish her true reason for coming.

"Ser Jaime, take me to my husband," she commanded.

"Your Grace, that may not be such a good idea," he uttered, voice low and careful.

"I do not care. I would like to see him." Her face remained calm and neutral, but her hands shook, almost violently. Jaime said nothing, only offered her his arm and led her outside.

They walked in silence until they came to a tent, larger than most, with two men standing guard on either side of the entrance. Jaime nodded to them and began to enter when he realized that Rhaenys was not with him.

She stood, rooted to the spot, wanting to rush in and see Jon but afraid of what she might find. Jaime must have sensed her nervousness. He came to her side and whispered into her ear, "You do not have to do this if you do not want to."

That seemed to shake away the uncertainty. She placed one hand on his chest and answered in a tone full of steel, "I will see."

The smell of death and decay greeted her inside. The tent was hot and stuffy, making it hard to breathe with the smell. Jon lay on his cot, pale and unmoving. Ghost sat by his feet, ever the silent guardian. For a moment, Rhaenys feared that he was dead. But as she got closer, she could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Breathing a sigh of relief, she kneeled by his side, brushing stray curls away from his eyes.

Ghost had raised his head to stare when she entered, but now he placed it back on his paws, almost as still as Jon. His red eyes, usually bright as blood, were dull now. It looked as though he had been weeping, and Rhaenys was eerily reminded of the Weirwood Tree in Winterfell.

His forehead was burning to the touch.  _Fever,_ she thought. An arrow had pierced his shoulder, just above his heart. A dagger had been shoved into his stomcach. And a sword slash crossed over his chest, from his collarbone, across his ribs. He didn't stir as she put a hand against his heart, trying to feel its beat, to be reassured by it. He didn't move as she placed a light kiss against his chapped lips.

"The Maester that has been tending to his wounds said it was practically a miracle he still lived. He fights, I think, to be with you and your child," Jaime said in a soft voice. Rhaenys never once took her eyes off Jon's face, but she heard the Kingsguard's words all the same.  _He will survive. He has to._


	27. The Red Woman

Rhaenys stayed with him through most of the hours of the day. She found it hard to even look away from him, much less leave his presence. Three days since her arrival, and still nothing had changed in him. He was usually still, practically a corpse. His fever burned like a fire. He never opened his eyes and barely moved. The only signs that he still lived were his breathing and the moans that would sometimes escape his lips.

Whereas Jon seemed hardly alive, their son was more restless than ever. It was as if he sensed that his father was in danger. He was always kicking, always moving. Between the two of them, leaving to do anything else was very nearly impossible.

She hadn't noticed Robb enter until his hand was on her shoulder and she looked up at him in surprise. His eyes were sad, his body rigid and tense. He stared down at the man he called brother.

"I shouldn't have fought with him. I acted like a boy, too stupid to see sense." His voice broke at his last words, and it looked like he might cry.

"You couldn't have known," she whispered.

He shook his head sadly. "Yes, and because of that I shouldn't have fought with him. We're at war, and any day could be our last. And now its very likely I will never be able to tell him that I'm sorry."

The anguish in his voice tore at her heart.

* * *

It was at dusk that same day that Ser Barristan entered the tent to speak with her.

"Your Grace, the lords ask that you come to the command tent to be present as the final details of the plan are put into place."

"I thought that the plan had already been finalized." She never took her eyes off Jon's face.

"The messenger told Ser Jaime that there has been a change and they would like you to be there as they confirm the details."

She sighed, the sound quavering with emotion. "I can't leave him like this. Something could happen while I'm gone, Ser Barristan. Right now, he is more important than Casterly Rock. He is what holds the army together, what makes them fight against overwhelming odds. If he dies, we will break apart and the Lannisters will destroy us."

He walked over to her, grabbed both her shoulders, pulled her up gently and turned her around to face him. One of his hands caressed her cheek. "Rhaenys, we need to take Casterly Rock for  _him._ We are in a camp, surrounded by the elements and the enemy. None of this is helping him to heal. If we take Casterly Rock, there will be shelter and food and adequate conditions for treating him."

As she looked down at her feet, too upset to admit he was right, he took the hand from her cheek and held her chin, bringing her eyes up to see his. "Your Grace, you have to be strong. Do not worry, Ghost and I will be here to watch over him. And I'm sure that wherever Dalin is, he is keeping a watchful eye on your husband."

Something furry touched her hand, and she saw Ghost was by her side. Smiling slightly, she grasped the direwolf's fur for comfort, then followed Ser Barristan as he led her out.

Jaime was waiting for them. He offered her his arm and she took it. She turned to look back twice to be sure that Ser Barristan remained outside the tent. Every time she did, Ser Barristan would give her a nod and Jaime would squeeze her hand.

*

The guards didn't notice her. It was dark outside and they were either drunk or sleeping. Even if they hadn't, it would not have mattered. The Lord had sent her to do his bidding and he would not let anyone interfere.

Her red robes flowed as she continued past where they sat. The camp was busy, at night as well as during the day. Men bustled this way and that, drinking, eating, fighting, fucking. Weapons and armor were made, food was passed out, and whores found men to pleasure during the night.

But no one could see her. No one cared about the woman in red nearing the King's tent.

*

The lords were gathered before the map, just as they had been when she first arrived. They bowed low, and welcomed her with kind words and condolences regarding her husband's health.

"Thank you, my lords. Now, what are the details for the plan of attack you wished to discuss?" She realized something was horribly wrong as they exchanged confused looks.

"Your Grace, the plan has been worked out. We're just merely waiting for the right time to put it into action. None of us requested your presence," the Blackfish said, for once uncertain.

She was filled with dread. Her dawning horror was reflected on all the other faces present. Someone had brought her here. Someone wanted her to be gone. Someone wanted her to leave the King. A thought struck her, and it was one she was very much afraid was true.

Turning to Jaime, she asked, "Have you and Ser Barristan betrayed me?"

His eyes widened in shock, even more than they had already been. "No-no, I wouldn't. Ser Barristan-he's-he would never-he would never betray King Jon," the Kingsguard stumbled over his words, desperate to prove his innocence.

*

She came to the King's tent now. A lone knight in white armor stood at the entrance. She did not kill him. Instead, she entered it from the back, careful not to make a sound.

The servant to the Lord had done a good job. The Queen had left her vigil over her husband, leaving the Lord's work to be done without interruption.

Inside, she found a huge, white direwolf laying at the King's feet. As she walked in, he raised his head, looking her over. His lips curled back over his teeth, a silent snarl, but besides that he did not make a move to stop her.

Moving over to the King, she could see the full extent of his wounds. He was barely breathing and his body raged with fever. Had he any energy to wake, he would have sounded as mad and delirious as his Targaryen grandfather.

Carefully, she placed one hand over his heart. It was beating, though faintly. He would not have lasted much longer had she not come.

*

"Who told you to bring the Queen here?" Robb asked, hand on his sword. The others were mimicking his actions. Rhaenys did not doubt that, should Jaime prove to be a liar, none of them would hesitate to kill him. She wasn't sure if such loyalty to her husband was wonderful or damning in this moment. They would do everything in their power to find the source of this plot, but they would kill before asking questions.

"A soldier. He approached Ser Barristan and I and said that the lords would like to see the Queen. We had been guarding the King's tent since the Queen came, we thought that a new piece of information arrived and had ruined our plan. Please, Your Grace. Believe me when I say I had no idea this was happening." He had come to kneel before her, awaiting her judgement.

"Of course you did not. You are innocent, Ser Jaime." She turned so she could face them all.

"Why would someone do this?" Robb voiced everyone's thoughts.

Rhaenys was just as confused as the others. "If this person had wanted to assassinate the King, he would have to do it some other way. Ghost and Ser Barristan guard his tent. The mystery conspirator would be cut down before they could manage to touch Jon. Either they are sloppy assassins, or they are planning something else."

The lords nodded in agreement. It was very true. They were surrounded by an army loyal to the King.

Before anyone could say anything more, Dalin burst into the tent, walking in as though he were a man.

"The Red Woman!" He growled angrily.

*

She could feel the shade's presence in the camp. The Lord of Light protected this tent, though, and he could not enter.

The King moaned under her touch. Sweat glistened on his bare skin. The fever was gone but his skin still burned. Most of his wounds were now pink scars. However, he was too far gone for the healing of the surface wounds to make any difference. The chance of his dying was present, even now.

No, she would not allow him to die. The Lord of Light had a purpose for him. He had to survive.  _For the night is dark and full of terrors._

*

Dalin led them back to where Jon rested. Ser Barristan was still standing guard. When he saw them approach - the shade walking among them in the light of day and several guards behind them - he quickly drew his sword and stepped aside.

"What is it, Your Grace?" he asked her.

"Has anyone entered, Ser Barristan?" She needed to know if she could trust him.

"No," he stated, a moment before Dalin said, "The Red Woman is too smart to attract attention. She would have crept in without alerting Ser Barristan. He's trustworthy, do not fear."

"So why has Ghost made no sound?" She wondered aloud. No one, not even Dalin, had an answer for her. She now noticed how the shade seemed on edge, pacing back and forth, and looking frustrated. He'd never appeared like this before. It worried her more than anything.

"What is it?" She asked him. He stopped moving and gestured to the tent.

"I can't  _enter._ He won't let me," he growled. Rhaenys had no time to try to understand what he meant. Instead, she nodded and braced herself for what they would find inside.

"Remain here," she told the guards. "I will go first."

Her command clearly unnerved them and they appeared ready to protest, but she held up a hand to silence them.

"I will go first," she repeated.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the dagger on her thigh, she walked in. Her breath caught in her throat at what she found.

The Red Woman was indeed here. Her clothes were of red silk, covering her entire body yet revealing all the same. Her hair looked like copper, flowing down her back and over her pale skin. She wore a choker on her throat. The ruby on it glowed red and pulsed like a heartbeat. The priestess was very beautiful, but that was not what had caught Rhaenys' attention.

Jon stood next to the Red Woman, seeming completely healthy. The wounds that had been open and ugly on his chest were now scars. It was as if he had never been hurt in the first place.

The two had been speaking, and the way that they spoke unsettled her. They spoke in low voices, standing close to one another. They stopped when she entered, and a look of concern and confusion crossed Jon's face.

"Jon." She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder. His skin was warm.

"Rhaenys?" He said as he held her close. The uncertainty in his voice hurt, but the last thing he probably remembered was the battle in which he almost died.

"Remember what I have told you, Jon Targaryen," the Red Woman spoke softly. Jon looked at her with a pained expression as she walked out, leaving them alone in the tent, save for Ghost, who remained on the bed.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and brought their foreheads together. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for you. I was told you were injured. I couldn't stay and wonder if you were dead," she whispered. His hand came to lay across her belly, on their son. She put one of her hands on top of his.

He smiled despite it all. "You silly girl." He kissed her forehead, and held her against his chest. "You didn't have to come. You should have stayed at the Crag. You should have stayed safe."

"What did the Red Woman say to you?" She pulled away suddenly, staring up at his face. Sighing, he led her to the bed and sat down, bringing her onto his lap. He nuzzled her neck, laying soft kisses against her skin.

"Don't worry about it. Her words aren't important." She must have imagined it, but for a second she could swear that he said, in a low and quiet voice,  _yet._


	28. A Hopeful Alliance

The letter was short, despite the words it contained. Hopefully, it would be enough. Jon didn't need his aunt, Daenerys, but it would be a much harder to end this war if she chose to fight against him. He may have had a bigger army, but she had Dothraki, Unsullied, and dragons. More blood would be spilled.

Jon had barely been awake for a day before he took command of his army once again. The lords had argued, had said that he needed to rest and regain his strength. He replied that he had rested for too long. They weren't the only ones asking him to remain in bed. Rhaenys was constantly trying to keep him inside their tent, to keep him from returning to this accursed war. Really, she was the one who should have stayed in bed, but his sister was nothing if not stubborn.

Their child would come soon. He was still unclear whether that would be a good thing or bad. He wanted desperately to meet his boy, the son that he and Rhaenys had conceived. But he also knew what it was like to be a child during a war. He did not wish for his son to be born when any day now his mother or father could be killed by the enemy.

"Your Grace, you requested my presence," said a low voice from behind him. It was not a question; it was a statement. Jon didn't need to turn to see the shade that appeared to be more shadow than man.

"Yes. Rhaenys tells me that you didn't enter my tent to stop the Red Woman. That you  _couldn't."_ The thought that the shade was unable to enter a tent was frightening. "Did it have anything to do with  _her_?"

Dalin was standing in front of him now. He hadn't seen him move, yet here he was. When Jon looked up into the shade's face, he was met with the normally impenetrable blackness that served as his eyes. But now, there was something there.  _Fear? What could possibly make something like him afraid?_

The shade only said one word, and it sent chills down Jon's spine; "Yes."

* * *

"Come to bed, Jon. You need your rest," Rhaenys called softly from the bed. The moon was covered in clouds this night, and only a small candle sitting on the table next to him served as light. The flame flickered constantly, as if uncertain if it should continue to burn or die off. Sighing, Jon ran a hand through his hair.

"I have a kingdom to run and a war to win. There are things I must take care of," he answered wearily. Why any man would want to be king, he did not understand. He had Rhaenys, Robb, their family, those lords who he could trust to help in ruling, and even then he still wished he could throw this blasted crown all the way to Valyria and let some other man become king.

"You can't rule or fight if you don't sleep. Come." She patted the spot next to her. Jon sighed again, but stood up from where he had sat, pouring over letters and reports. He shed his clothes until, like her, he was naked, and slid into bed beside his wife. Instantly, she curled against his side. He wrapped his arms protectively around her.

They laid like that for some time, enjoying the feeling of being in one another's arms again, before Rhaenys spoke. She had been tracing the scars on his chest.

"Did you dream while you were . . ." she didn't finish her sentence, her voice breaking slightly.

"Dying? Yes."

"What did you dream about?" She had stopped tracing the old wounds and peered up at him in the almost complete darkness.

"I don't remember." In truth, he remembered much of it. Mostly, there had been fire. And ice. Ice like nothing he had ever felt before. It had hands and had wrapped its fingers around his throat, trying to choke the life out of him. He had seen creatures that looked like men, but stared at him with bright, blue eyes. There was a flaming sword, and ash and smoke. And there was a three-eyed crow.

_"It has all changed. The phantom has changed everything," the crow said to him. "The princess should not have lived. Your life should have ended at the Wall and began again, born a midst salt and smoke. You should have died by the daggers in the dark and been reborn the Prince that was Promised. But all that has changed._

Somehow it all sounded so familiar, like a an old memory. But no matter how hard he tried to remember, the memories would fade away.

"What did the Red Woman tell you?" Rhaenys's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Smiling grimly, he kissed the crown of her head. "Don't worry about it. We both need sleep, my love." He put his hand on her stomach, over their child.  _Eddard,_ she had said their son's name would be. Remembering his namesake almost brought tears to Jon's eyes. He would always consider Eddard Stark to be his father, no matter who sired him. The guilt that he couldn't save him burned brightly in his mind.

Sleep eluded him most of the night, and what little sleep he did find was plagued by dreams. A burning sword, dragons, daggers, and blue eyes, always blue eyes. But the three-eyes crow never appeared, and he never had the chance to ask what he meant by all his words.

Morning brought no relief. Casterly Rock still had to be taken and the war had to be won. The Lannisters were coming at them from the Westerlands and the Crownlands. Stannis Baratheon would come from Stormlands. And they had no idea whose side Daenerys would take. They would win but not without the costs.

"Your Grace, Prince Oberyn and Nymeria Sand await you in the command tent," Dalin told him as he exited his tent.

"Thank you," he replied. Dalin nodded and disappeared, off to do whatever he did these days. Shaking his head, Jon continued on to where the Prince of Dorne waited.

"Your Grace." Oberyn inclined his head as Jon walked inside.

"Your Grace," Lady Nym repeated in her sweeter voice.

"Prince Oberyn, I had not expected you. What news do you bring of the fleet?" He had sent the Red Viper and the Sand Snakes with the Ironborn. The friendship they had struck up with Victarion Greyjoy had surprised him, but he encouraged it.  _Whatever brings peace._

"Not much. We have begun our assault on Lannisport and are making good progress. But that is not why I am here." He leaned in closer, as if afraid that someone might hear.

"There are whispers of a silver-haired prince across the Narrow Sea. They say that he has the Golden Company at his back and that he is the son of Rhaegar and Elia. They say he means to take the throne from the Stark Usurper," he whispered to Jon.

"Is there any truth to these whispers?" Jon asked him. Rhaenys had said that Aegon was dead, and it seemed very unlikely that anyone could survive having their head bashed against a wall. Besides that, another contender for the throne would only force the war to last longer. Every northerner knew that this war had to end.  _Winter is coming,_   _and it is very near._

"I have heard that the Golden Company broke their contract. And if any of the rest is true, Your Grace, then he has more claim to the throne than you or your aunt."

"But not me."

They both turned to see Rhaenys standing by the entrance, Lady Nym at her side. Neither of them had realized that the Sand Snake had left. His wife managed to appear regal and intimidating, even when heavily pregnant.

"By the laws of Dorne, the firstborn child - be it girl or boy - is heir. Seeing as my brother, Aegon, and I are Dornish, I think he will be very accepting in this tradition."

"And if he is not?" Oberyn spoke quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

Rhaenys regarded him with a cool expression. "Then he will burn."


	29. Choosing Sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon's second chapter

Near Volantis

"Has my aunt chosen a side?" Aegon asked. They were gathered in their command tent. The Golden Company had agreed to work with them, so they had an army of over 10,000 men, located just outside of Volantis. They were preparing to sail to Westeros. Even with their large numbers, Jon Connington still had very high doubts as to whether they should openly fight with the Usurper, as the men had taken to calling Jon Targaryen. From what he'd heard, the North, Riverlands, Reach, and Dorne were all allied with this dragon-wolf. The Iron Islands too, surprisingly enough. The Crownlands wouldn't surrender to a Targaryen and the Lannisters were lords of the Westerlands. Their only hope was for Daenerys with her Unsullied, Stormcrows, Second Sons, and dragons to join Aegon.

The messenger, who had just returned from Meereen and treating with Daenerys, looked nervous. He was scuffing his boots on the ground and wringing his hands. His eyes didn't remain on one thing for long and he seemed unable to meet Aegon's eyes. Dread filled Jon as he guessed what message this man had brought back.  _Daenerys is choosing her side only, I'm sure of it,_ he thought to himself. The truth was much worse.

"My lord- Your Grace, I mean," he said quickly as Jon gave him a dark look, "I'm afraid not all is going to plan."

"What do you mean? I've offered to wed my aunt, for us to rule together with Rhaenys, once we free her from the Usurper. And she gets the chance to go home and avenge our family. What more does she want?" Aegon was barely containing his rage. Jon was deeply worried about the boy. Ever since the cheesemonger had informed them of the Usurper, Aegon had changed. His decisions now seemed to be made from his hatred of this "Stark whore's bastard," as Aegon put it. He spent much time cursing and swearing about how everything had been for nothing, how the Usurper was stealing everything from him.

"Your Grace, she- she, um, perhaps you should read this letter," the man stuttered, hastily shoving a paper onto the table between him and Aegon. Snatching it away angrily, Aegon began to read aloud.

_Boy,_

_Do not think that because you claim to be Rhaegar's son, you control me. I am not your servant to beck and call whenever you wish. I am the Mother of Dragons, the_ Khaleesi  _of the Dothroki. I do not bow to you and I will not be your wife. You have no proof that you are my brother's child. Even if Jon Targaryen in Westeros is not truly a dragon, his wife undoubtedly is. Last I heard, Dorne and most of Westeros declared for him, not you._

_You have entered the game too late. King Jon has given me much more satisfactory terms and I have accepted. As you read this I sail for Westeros with my army and children to join the other dragons. If I were you, I'd stay as far from us as possible if you hope to live for much longer._

_Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men,_ Khaleesi  _of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons._

Aegon's hands were shaking once he'd finished. Everyone was watching him, waiting for what he will do next.  _Waiting for him to act like a King,_ Jon thought to himself. They did not wait long.

"Leave me," Aegon said calmly, a complete contrast to how his body was reacting. The men began to exit, brushing aside the canvas door to get outside. Just as Jon was about to leave, Aegon called out, "Lord Connington, remain here."

He did as he was bid, a little thankful. The heat outside was almost unbearable, worse than King's Landing. The tent provided some shade and was cool. He much preferred it to the rest of the camp.

Aegon sat down in defeat. Suddenly, he no longer seemed like the almost spoiled child he had been over the last few days. Suddenly, he seemed more like Rhaegar than Jon had ever seen him. Seven Hells, the boy could have been his father a few years before the Rebellion in that moment.  _My silver prince,_ he almost said aloud.

"What am I to do, Lord Connington? The boy, Jon Targareyen, appears to be winning in every way that I can't. He is in Westeros, he has an army, he's winning the war, he has Dorne, he has the North, he has Daenerys, he has dragons, he has Rhaenys." At the last part, his eyes grew hard. "Rhaenys was supposed to be with me. She was supposed to be more than my sister. She should have been my wife, my lover, the mother of my children. My queen. Instead, she is all those things to my half-brother."

Jon knew that Rhaenys was an especially hard thing to accept. Though Rhaegar had disagreed with marrying brother to sister, Jon and Lemore - Ashara - had both agreed that his children should be married.  _To secure the Targaryen line,_ they had said. Unfortunately, by the time their men managed to get to Rhaenys' rooms, she was gone. Killed, they assumed. But no, she was alive and supporting the new Targaryen king, as well as warming his bed and baring his children.

"Once we defeat this Usurper and show him his place, she will realize her mistake. She will come for you," he added. Aegon was still doubtful, but Jon's words had their intended effect. He got up and moved to where their map of the Free Cities and Westeros was.

"Yes, you're right. Where should we land first?" He seemed eager to engage in the war. Eager to get his sister back and fulfill his life's purpose.

 _Perhaps there's a chance we can win this war after all,_ he thought as he pointed out places that would be necessary and useful in their upcoming conflict.  _Jon Targaryen will never know what hit him._


	30. The Mother of Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Dany's first chapter. There will be more to come.

The Narrow Sea

Daenerys watched as her dragons chased each other over the water. Occasionally, they would break off from their little fights to swoop down, disappear in the sea, and fly up, roasting a fish. Sometimes they would bite or scratch one another and roar out their anger. It did not worry her. Children played like this all the time, and her dragons were no different.

They were sailing for Westeros. For the first time in her life, Daenerys would finally return to her home. And she would be taking what was hers in fire and blood.

When a man - who appeared to be more of a shadow than a human being - came to her carrying terms from this new contender for the Iron Throne, Jon Targaryen, Daenerys had been hesitant. She was unsure whether this boy was actually a Targaryen. The rumors claimed that he looked more Stark than Targaryen. And even if he was, she didn't know if she could trust him. However, when she read the letter he had written, some of that uncertainty left.

Most men would order her to give aid. Most men would tell her that she was a woman and had no right to the Iron Throne. Most men would tell her that she belonged to them. King Jon did not.

He said that she had as much claim to the throne as he and that he would welcome an alliance with her. He told her that he would be more than willing to rule with her. This made her smile to herself. The boy would not force her to do anything, but he wasn't going to back down from his claim. It reminded her of herself.

Her nephew - if indeed he was a Targaryen - had continued to explain the situation in Westeros. He told her of their victories and defeats, of their successes and failures, of their plans, of their movements. He had even included that he was married to his half-sister, Rhaenys. Daenerys felt that he trusted her too much, but he must have predicted her decision as, almost as soon as she finished the letter, she began to prepare for their journey to the Seven Kingdoms. She wasn't sure exactly what had convinced her to ally herself with this boy, but she felt as though she could trust him.

" _Khaleesi_ , how do we know that we can trust this boy? He is the son of Eddard Stark, a traitor. He will use you and betray you. We cannot hold him to his word," Ser Jorah said as he joined her at the stern of the ship. The fleet that was carrying them had been provided by Jon Targaryen. The ship they sailed on was named  _Beauty of the Sea._

She sighed. Her Bear seemed unable to get past his dislike for the Starks. Though she herself was still uncertain as to whether they could believe in the Starks, she felt that her nephew would not go back on his word.

"And yet, before you were exiled, you served the Starks willingly." Ser Jorah's face reddened slightly. He opened his mouth to say something but she spoke over him.

"Have you ever met Jon Targaryen?" He shook his head. "Do you know him personally?"

He answered this time. "No,  _Khaleesi_. As I said, I have never met him."

"'This boy' is my nephew. He is not like most men. He will not betray us, of that I am certain." Daenerys wondered what his plan was for when the war was over. Normally, she would have suggested their marriage, but seeing as he already had a wife, she didn't know if that was an option. _The dragon does have three heads. And if Mirri Maz Duur is to be believed, I am barren._ Aegon the Conqueror had had two wives. She wondered if that was what Jon Targaryen meant to do.

"If that is what you think,  _Khaleesi_ , then so be it. But I still do not believe that we can trust him." Again, she sighed. Jorah was a true friend, a wise adviser, and a great protector. His love for her blinded him from sense, however.

From the rumors she had heard of her nephew, she had gathered that he was handsome and intelligent and honorable, that he was a true king. She wondered how much of that was true.

She remembered the other letter she had received, from another boy claiming to be her nephew. This one, she found much harder to believe.

_Aunt Daenerys,_

_I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. We both wish to return to Westeros and restore our House. I offer you these terms of alliance, so we may return as friends rather than enemies._

_\- We shall marry. I will become the King of Westeros, and you will be my Queen. We will combine our forces. With your dragons and Unsullied and my mercenaries, we will crush this Usurper, Jon Targaryen._

_\- My sister, Rhaenys Targaryen, will become my second wife. She has been married to the Usurper against her will and forced to bear his children. Once we defeat him, we will free her and I will marry her._

_\- Lord Jon Connington will become the Hand of the King once we establish our rule. He has proved to be a great ally and friend and will be rewarded as such._

_\- I will become the rider of a dragon of my choosing. Together, we will take back what is ours with fire and blood._

_These are my terms. If you agree, then we will join and destroy our enemies. If not, then we will meet on the battlefield as enemies._

_King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Realm of Westeros._

His letter had dripped with anger and jealousy and diplomacy. When she had finished, she couldn't help but to compare this one to Jon Targaryen's. Jon's letter had seemed as though he was writing to an equal, as though he were a King and she a Queen, but he had demanded nothing and wrote almost like they were friends. He'd been blunt of what he wanted and what she would gain. But he had done so kindly.

Aegon - if that was who he was - had written like he was a King and she one of his bannermen. He'd demanded what he wanted, had threatened her with consequences should she refuse. He had seemed to make many great decisions about the realm without her, and assumed that she would just let him rule everything on his own. Jon had left her trusting him for some reason, and with a promise of equality. Aegon had left her infuriated and with a promise of his ruling the realm and her supporting him.

Judging from the rumors and his letter, she guessed that Aegon was acting a bit out of anger. It was said that Rhaenys Targaryen was in love with her half-brother, and was bearing his heir willingly. Aegon made it seem that she was a prisoner, forced against her will. Ironically, it reminded Daenerys of Robert Baratheon and his love for Lyanna Stark.

It hadn't taken long for her to decide to sail for Westeros rather than Volantis. It was a smarter move, she believed. Jon Targaryen had lived his whole life in Westeros, and most of the realm supported him already. She and Aegon were outsiders, neither having lived in Westeros for very long. The people would see them as invaders rather than rulers if they came together. If she fought with Jon, the realm would see her as Queen more quickly than they would with Aegon.

_I will return to Westeros. But I will come with Winter, and retake it with Fire and Blood._


	31. Oh, The Irony!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a weird title, but it is relevant. Also, Aegon's third chapter and the last one for some time. He'll be back, though.

Rage. Boiling, bubbling in his stomach. That was what he was now. That was what Jon Targaryen had reduced him to; a body of rage.

It had taken all of Aegon's life to prepare him, raise an army for him, get to Westeros, reclaim it in his name. Sixteen years it had taken for any of this to happen. And yet Jon Targaryen had done it all in less than two.

"Your Grace? Are you unwell?" a voice asked. Aegon turned to look at the speaker. He felt like he should know this man, but he couldn't remember. Walking like a man in his cups (which he was), Aegon slowly made his way to the command tent. Jon Connington was there, waiting for him. When he saw him, he jumped to his feet.

"Gods boy," he exclaimed, "what did you do?"

He grinned like an idiot and slurred, "Oh, nothing. Only what Kings do." He plopped down in a chair, hiccuping in between giggles. Connington just stared at him, unable to decide if he should slap him or give him a hug. It was obvious that Aegon was suffering, though from what, Connington couldn't tell. And Aegon was grateful for that.

"You know," he continued, "my life is meaningless. Jon Targaryen has done it all before I could even get to Westeros. I mean, even Rhaenys loves him more."

"No, your life is full of purpose. Jon  _Snow_  is nothing. He will never be able to hold the Iron Throne. Only you can do that. Rhaenys will realize it too. No doubt, she already knows. I bet she's doing everything she can to find some moon tea and kill the little monster in her belly." Connington's words made Aegon feel both better and worse. A small part of him was willing to take solace in those words, to bask in them and accept them as truth. But the rest knew it was a lie. Jon Targaryen would never have gotten this far if he couldn't hold a throne. And - though he only knew Rhaenys through rumors and whispers - he did not think she would have let herself be married to Jon Targaryen if she didn't absolutely want it.

He let himself laugh at the irony of it all. In this war, he played the part of Robert Baratheon. Rhaenys was Lyanna Stark and Jon Targaryen or Snow or whatever he was had Rhaegar's role.

* * *

Three days later, he found that there was some truth to Connington's words. Daenerys had joined Jon, yes, but no one had laid a claim to the Stormlands besides Stannis Baratheon. And Stannis was at the end. All of his moves had been made and now he was down to little more than a thousand men, stuck on Dragonstone.

"We'll take the Stormlands," he told his officers. Once his plan had been explained, they nodded their consent. It was a good course of action.

"With the Stormlands under our control, we'll have a foothold in this war. And we'll be closer to the Crownlands. From there, we can cut off Jon Targaryen from his ultimate goal: King's Landing."  _He wants to be a King. And now, I'll take his throne._

"Your Grace, if you don't mind my asking, what is to be done with your sister, the 'Wolf's Whore,' as some of the men have taken to calling her," Harry Strickland said carefully. Aegon bristled at the title his sister had been given. When he wasn't in his cups, all reasoning concerning Jon Targaryen and Rhaenys was gone.  _She is his prisoner, forced to do those things against her will._

"Once I crush this usurper, I will annul his marriage to my sister. We will marry shortly thereafter." He expected this to be met with approval. Instead, the men looked at each other uneasily. Even Connington refused to meet his eyes.

"King Aegon, your sister will have been married already. She will have carried a child and given birth to the Usurper's bastard, conceived of rape and lust. Perhaps you should seek to marry someone else, someone who has not been soiled. Your aunt, Daenerys, would be a good choice," Strickland suggested. The others seemed in agreement.

Suddenly Aegon banged his fist down on the table. The sound was startling. "You will never speak of my sister like that again. She is held against her will, probably praying for the day when we return to Westeros and rescue her. I will marry my aunt, yes. But you forget, the dragon has three-heads. My sister  _will_  be my wife." They had all jumped back, shocked at his sudden outburst.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect," Strickland said, bowing low.

"Good. Now leave me. I wish to be alone." He turned his back as they began to shuffle out. _I will find you Rhaenys. I will do what Father failed to do to Mother. I will save you, my sweet sister._

* * *

Strickland and Connington walked out together. They remained silent until they entered Strickland's tent, away from the ears of others.

"His grief and anger blind him," Harry mused. Jon nodded in agreement.

"Aye. I've heard the rumors. They say that she crowned him herself, that without her, he would never have claimed his birthright."

"And that she carries his child with pride, that she wished to marry him." They stopped for a minute. Both regarded the other with understanding.

"He can't accept it. Jon Targaryen has too much already. Aegon will refuse to believe that his sister is in love with the Usurper," Connigton stated sadly. It hurt to watch the boy lie to himself.

"If he kills the usurper and the child . . . if the rumors are true, I fear that she will cut his throat in the night. If she hasn't cut her own throat first." Jon Connington nodded gravely. He knew what had to be done in order for the king to survive.

"So we don't kill the Usurper. We keep him locked away. Give him to the Boltons, should they bend the knee. Their sigil is that of a flayed man. No doubt, they will enjoy reinstating that old tradition. If Rhaenys does not play the part of the dutiful and loving wife - if she does not make Aegon happy - we will let the Boltons have their fun with the Usurper. If she doesn't stop, if she thinks we're bluffing, we'll take her to see him. We'll make her watch so that she may understand that we are serious."  _And may the gods forgive us for it._

What they were planning . . . it was horrible. Connington had heard the rumors of the Bastard of the Dreadfort, Ramsay Snow, from the cheesmonger. He'd heard the terrible things that Ramsay Snow did to his captives. But he refused to see Aegon lose everything for a woman. He would not allow him to become his father. No, he would do what had to be done in order to secure Aegon's throne.

_Even if we have to flay Jon Targaryen until he begs us for death._


	32. Casterly Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans (even though the site is telling me it's the 5th)! I did update this two days ago (and I really do like to keep to a schedule), but I thought, "Ah, screw it. I have writer's block for everything else, and I need to catch this up to the version on Fanfiction.net. So, I'll update it."
> 
> That said, here you go.

Time had no meaning. Not in a battle. Jon could have been fighting for hours or days, and it would have felt like minutes. He had no idea how long they had been fighting. There was no way to mark the passing of time. The only reason he was aware that they had been attacking for the majority of the day was because of the soreness in his muscles and the place of the sun, which hadn't even been out when this all started, but was now directly above him.

An arrow whizzed by his head, his heart going into his throat. It would have been very pathetic to be brought back to life by the Red Woman only to be killed by a stray arrow.

"Your Grace!" Someone called, and suddenly a man was in front of him, hacking at him with a sword. The newcomer lacked skill and finesse, preferring to use all his strength in the blows. Jon deflected them easily, conserving his energy until the other man had none. Soon, the man's attacks came slower, did not have the same brute force behind them. This was his chance. With the ease that comes from being trained for years in the art of sparring, he knocked the man's sword to the side. The man brought it back up with barely enough time to spare to block Jon's downward cut. He began raining blow after blow upon his opponent.

There was an opening, and suddenly the man found Longclaw protruding from his back. With a strangled cry, the man fell to his knees, then face first into the mud. He gave one last shuddering breath before the life drained out of him.

Satisfied, Jon began to cut his way back to where Robb and his Kingsguard held their ground. His brother was fighting off five men, Ser Jaime by his side. Both were excellent swordsmen and were handling themselves just fine. Ser Barristan was fighting three. Jon began making his way over to the elder Kingsguard, killing a stray Lannister soldier that was unlucky enough to challenge him. By the time he reached Ser Barristan, one man was dead, one man was in the process of being killed, and the third was preparing to attack. Jon slashed his sword at the man's shoulders, taking off his head. Ser Barristan nodded his thanks and stood by his side, guarding him once again.

The Battle for Casterly Rock was going in their favor. Six teams had entered the city, numbering from fifty to seventy men. The Blackfish, Robb, Ser Barristan, Prince Oberyn, Randyll Tarly, and Jon himself had all led one. The agreed upon rendezvous point had been the main gate, and they'd all fought to get there. When they arrived, they opened the gates and let the rest of the army pour in. Through the night and most of the day they fought, the city almost completely belonging to the Targaryen army.

Now, Jon and his men were just outside of the actual castle, fighting desperately to get entrance. If they could take the castle, the men would surrender, rather than risk the lives of the Lannisters left in there. Jon had no intention of killing any of the Lannister family, but if worse came to worst, he was very willing to publicly execute one of the older family members. They needed Casterly Rock.

A flash of white, and all of a sudden the man that had been charging him was on the ground, entrails being torn out by Ghost. Jon whistled, calling his direwolf back to his side. The wolf obliged, coming to stand beside his master. His lips were curled in a silent snarl, and his muzzle was red with blood. Jon took a deep breath, gripping his sword tighter, before running into the fray. It was not an overly suicidal thing to do. Robb, Sers Jaime and Barristan, as well as Ghost were following him, watching his back and their own.

Only when the cry of "They've breached the keep!" went up did the enemy finally show the first signs of surrender. It began with ten or twelve men, all fighting near Jon, slowly laying down their weapons, hands raised in a sign of peace. The action rippled across the Lannister forces until most of the men in red and gold had lain down whatever arms they carried. Very few continued to fight, and they were dealt with quickly. There was only one of them that had gotten anywhere close to doing damage to the Targaryen army.

This nameless man had been in the crowd, pretending or not to give up. Until he saw Jon walk past. With a loud screech, he had picked up his weapon and charged the king, raising his sword above his head. Before any of his guards could do anything, the man found himself with a sword in his belly, courtesy of his target. Jon drew Longclaw out, not bothering to check for a heartbeat. The would-be Kingslayer was dead.

The castle of Casterly Rock was impressive on the outside and the inside. The walls were draped in Lannister crimson and gold, lion heads roaring at them from banners up above. The corridors and hallways were mostly empty, save for the occasional soldier running somewhere. The Lannister family, as Jon was informed, was being held in the great hall.

Jon walked in silence, accompanied by his two Kingsguard. Ser Barristan remained impassive, as emotionless as a statue. Ser Jaime, less so. He would not betray his king, of that Jon was certain. But this was his family. It would not be easy to face them.

"Ser Jaime?" Jon asked quietly as they made their way to the new prisoners.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Is there anything you would ask of me to be done about your family?" There was little he could do beyond guarantee their survival, and even that was a bit of a stretch. But he would hear Jaime out. The man had earned that, at least.

There was a moment where Jaime pondered what his request would be. He took a deep breath before answering. "Please, Your Grace. Just . . . do what you can to let them live. Most of them have done nothing besides give moral support to the lords."

Jon nodded. "I will do what I can." They ceased any conversation as they entered the hall.

They found the Lannisters standing tall and proud. They were Genna Frey (recently widowed), Dorna Lannister, Martyn Lannister, Janei (who was held by her mother), and Joy Hill. Even in defeat, the Lion still holds its pride, Jon thought to himself.

When their names had been given, Jon stepped forward to speak with them. Jaime followed him like a second shadow, though there was a slight air of uneasiness about him. They watched him as he approached with eyes narrowed in suspicion. Jon remembered Martyn Lannister, although it had been Robb who had met the Lannister boy and not him. So it came as no surprise when Martyn decided to mock Jon, having no clue who he was.

"Who are you, boy? Some whore's son? Where's your commander? Where's your traitorous king? I would like to meet with him, rather than some greenboy like yourself." Martyn's insults did little to bring forth a reaction from Jon. It only amused him. Martyn was younger than himself, and had definitely seen less battle than Jon.

"You will speak to His Grace with respect. This is Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Realm, the Black Dragon, and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne," Jaime snapped from beside Jon. Martyn seemed to lose whatever confidence he had had upon the realization that he had insulted the man that could decide if he lived or died.

"Your forces have been defeated," Jon began, addressing the Lannisters before him. "Casterly Rock has been taken. You are now my hostages and will remain as such until the war is ended."

"You don't want to trade us for your cousins?" Genna Lannister asked coyly. "Poor Sansa and dear, little Arya?" Jon smiled at her, and her perfect mask of innocence faltered for a moment. Doubt became apparent.

"Why would I? My cousins are safe in the North, far away from your grasp. No, I will not trade you. Unless Lord Tywin or Joffrey Waters surrenders, you will be held here. Once the war is over, the new Lord of Casterly Rock will decide you fate."

This time, it was Dorna Lannister that spoke up. Her tone held much hatred and malice. "And who will the new Lord be? One of your loyal bannermen? Will you let him kill us like the Mountain killed your sister's family? Will you look away, saying we are 'lionspawn' and have no right to live, like Robert Baratheon did all those years ago?"

His eyes darkened and his voice became low and dangerous, like a wolf's. Or a dragon's. "I am nothing like Robert Baratheon. You will be treated fairly and with kindness, unlike Elia of Dorne. Unless he proves to be our enemy, Tyrion Lannister will be the new Lord of Casterly Rock." His answer was met with shock, though less so from Genna.

Martyn looked at him incredulously. "You would take the Rock away from the Lannisters only to return it to one of us." A smug smile appeared on the younger boy's face. "You must be more stupid than I gave you credit for."

The smug smile was wiped from his face when Ser Barristan's fist collided with it. Jaime - though they were his blood - looked seconds away from doing the same. Jon was once again reminded of the loyalty his two Kingsguard had for him.

"Watch your tongue, boy. And do not push me. I am against executing you, but I have three other Lannisters as well as a bastard in this room, and your brother in Riverrun. I do not need you alive." It was the truth. He could have just as easily killed Martyn right then and there and prevent any word from reaching King's Landing.

They seemed to understand that Jon was serious, for none of them said anything more.

Jon turned to Ser Barristan. "Send one letter to Riverrun and another to the Queen. Tell them that Casterly Rock is ours." The old Kingsguard nodded and left to do that.

As Jon began to walk out, Genna Lannister once again found her voice. "And what might your next target be, Your Grace?" Her voice was full of mocking, but there was genuine curiosity in it.

There was no harm in answering, for there was nothing any of his captives could do about it. Let them fear the way he was quickly reconquering the Seven Kingdoms in the name of House Targaryen.

Jon didn't stop walking, didn't look back. He barely even bothered to turn his head to make his voice more clearly heard as he said, "Lannisport."


	33. An Engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I really meant to update this some days earlier, but life sucks and I had things to do. So here you go.

"Your Grace!" Someone called through the door. With a resigned sigh, Jon opened his eyes and stood up from the chair he was sitting in. Oberyn Martell stood outside, Jaime standing guard next to him.

"What is it?" Jon asked.

"The Ironborn have taken Lannisport and we have received a letter from Meereen." Her uncle sounded very excited. Jon looked at Rhaenys once before ordering her uncle to gather the other lords. When Oberyn left, he came to kneel next to her.

"You should stay here and rest," he said softly, placing a kiss on her forehead. She pushed him away playfully.

"I'm pregnant, not dying. I can still walk and talk and plan."

He laughed. "Yes, I can see that you're far from it. But the babe will come at any time now. Stay and rest. You'll need your energy." That said, he stood up and left her to grumble to herself.

* * *

The moment Jon walked out of the room, Jaime nodded to Ser Barristan and followed the young King.

"Where is the letter from Meereen?" Jon whispered as they headed towards the solar that he had claimed as his own.  _My father's solar._

"Prince Oberyn has it. He plans to give it to you once the other lords have left," Jaime answered, in the same low tone. The King had yet to reveal his intention to form an alliance with his aunt, and they didn't want word of it to reach Tywin.

"Good," was all he said before they entered the solar.

It was just like it had been when he came here as a child; messy, with maps and books and papers covering the desk. It was rather big for a solar. There was enough room to hold all the lords summoned to the meeting, a number close to twenty. And those were just the lords that were with them now.

"My lords," the king addressed them. "The Ironborn have successfully taken Lannisport. We have now driven the Lannister forces out and have full control of the Westerlands."

Of the nine regions of Westeros, Jon Targaryen now commanded six. The Vale had remained neutral thus far. The Stormlands had bent the knee to Stannis Baratheon. And the Crownlands belonged to Joffrey Baratheon.

"Where should we conquer next, Your Grace?" Lord Umber called out. Many voices rose up to shout their opinion.

"The Vale."

"Stormlands."

"King's Landing to kill Joffrey Waters."

Eventually Jon held up his hand for silence. Immediately, the lords quieted. Jaime found himself thinking of how similar and different Jon Targaryen was from Tywin Lannister. Jon was nowhere near as ruthless. He relied on love  _and_ fear, unlike Tywin. But like him, Jon held his men's respect and obedience, as this moment showed.

"Stannis Baratheon is all but broken. We will take the Stormlands first. The more men we can get before we conquer the Crownlands will improve our chances." The lords nodded in agreement with their King's words.

Several hours later, when it was dark outside, King Jon dismissed the lords, save for a few. Only five people remained: the Blackfish, Lord Edmure, Lord Stark, Prince Oberyn, and Nymeria Sand. Jaime hadn't noticed that any of the Sand Snakes were at Casterly Rock, but he supposed that Nymeria wasn't with her sisters because the Queen had requested she stay.

"Prince Oberyn, the letter?" Jon asked. Oberyn brought out a piece of paper and handed it to the King. Jaime noted the seal was unbroken.

Opening it, King Jon began to read.

_Nephew,_

_After much consideration, I have decided to take you up on your offer. I will take my army and sail across the Narrow Sea to join you. Make no mistake, I will be Queen. However, as you said, the dragon has three heads. We will rule together._

_Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhyonar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons.'"_ When he finished, they all stood in silence. None knew how to respond. Her letter could be cause for celebration or dread.

Finally, Robb Stark spoke up. He asked the question that seemed to be on everyone's mind. "Jon, she said that you would rule together. Do you intend to take a second wife as Aegon the Conqueror and Prince Rhaegar did?"

The King sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. If the kingdom can survive it, I will not marry her."

"I have heard rumors," Nymeria Sand mused, "that the Mother of Dragons is infertile. If that is so, perhaps you should take her as a second wife. Rhaenys will still be the mother of your children, but you can control your aunt better."

"Perhaps. I don't even know if she will consider marriage at all. And if she does, she may wish for someone other than myself."

"You cannot allow her to marry another. The realm being under the rule of a king and two queens is enough, but for two kings and queens? I would understand if the North had declared independence, but two pairs of rulers for all of Westeros is too much. If she refuses to marry you, let her take a lover, but not a husband," Jaime said.

"You're right, Ser Jaime." The King seemed to withdraw into himself for a moment. The moment passed and the King excused himself, returning to his chambers and Rhaenys.

* * *

The Queen was lying in bed, half-asleep when Jon returned. Hearing the door open, she made to sit up. Jon quickly crossed the room to the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Rest," he said to her. She smiled and took his face in her hands, kissing him passionately.

"Stop worrying and join me," she told him when they broke apart. "The Queen commands it," she added. Grinning against her lips, he did as told, laying down next to her.

"Daenerys is crossing the Narrow Sea. She's going to fight with us." He was rubbing circles absentmindedly on her back. Though it was good news, worry gnawed at him. Turning onto his side so he faced her, Jon looked at his wife. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, not to mention the kindest and most intelligent. He wouldn't give her up for anything. Tentatively, he placed one hand over her swelling stomach.

"What is it?" she whispered to him in the darkness of their room.

"Would you be angry if I married Daenerys?"

"That depends. Would you ignore me?"

"No."

"Discard me?"

"No."

"Leave me? Kill me? Shun the children I would give you?"

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Never."

"Then I would be perfectly fine with your marriage to her. Aegon the Conqueror married both his sisters, and our father took two wives, your mother and mine."

He chuckled softly. "Why is everyone always comparing me to Aegon the Conqueror?"

She didn't reply, merely stared into his eyes for a few seconds before kissing him again. He wrapped one arm around her back, pulling her as close to him as he could. He wished they could remain like this forever, that there was no war or kingdom to take him away. But there was. They had a war to win and the Seven Kingdoms to rule.

 _A king should never sit easy,_  Aegon the Conqueror had once said. And Jon supposed that was true. There were many who would seek to take away his throne, his loved ones. There were many who would seek to harm him and his family.

Pressing a kiss to Rhaenys's hair, he promised himself that he would kill any who tried to take Rhaenys away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is from Dany's POV.


	34. The Silver Queen Arrives

Daenerys met with her nephew at Lannisport. It was there that her ships anchored. She had not been too concerned when she saw it in the distance until Ser Jorah had said that they were sailing to Lannisport. She had felt betrayed. Either Jon Targaryen had lured her into a trap, or the Lannisters had sent a false letter in her nephew's name. After several moments of arguing and sword drawing, the captain of  _Beauty of the Sea_ had explained that King Jon had taken Lannisport and was awaiting her arrival there. She'd relaxed then, though was still on edge.

When they landed, she expected a servant or lord to greet her and take her to her nephew. That was not the case. As she walked off the boat, Ser Jorah and Grey Worm at her sides, her dragons in the air, she noticed that a man (though really he looked no more than a boy at a distance) sat atop a horse in armor, with two other men flanking him and the Targaryen-Stark standard flapping in the wind. She assumed that this was the King's squire, or some important lord.

However, when they drew closer, two giant wolves approached. One was grey with yellow eyes, the other white with red eyes. Grey Worm and Ser Jorah immediately pushed her behind them as the wolves drew closer, unsheathing their swords.

"Ghost, to me!" a voice called. The white wolf gave her one look, then raced back to the boy, circling his horse once before stopping at his side. The other wolf watched his companion go before following, coming to stand next to one of the other men. Another boy it appeared.

The three men dismounted and walked to her and her escort. Grey Worm and Ser Jorah, at her command, stepped back to guard her sides, though they both kept their hands near their weapons.

As the men came closer, Daenerys realized her mistake. The two she had thought to be boys were young, about her age, but they both had the look of experienced soldiers. The leader had grey eyes and dark curls, a sword with a wolf head pommel on his back. He didn't draw it, didn't even bring his hand near it. Instead, one hand rested in the fur of the white wolf, the other at his side. The companion with the grey wolf had auburn hair and blue eyes, and the third man was older than both of them, but looked like an older version of the boy with blue eyes.

"Queen Daenerys, it is an honor to meet you," the leader said. He didn't bow to her, which she would expect from any soldier, no matter what other king they served. She was still above them and she deserved respect from them. She bristled, until the boy spoke again.

"I am Jon Targaryen."

In that moment, she realized she had greatly misjudged her nephew. She had expected him to send someone to bring her to him. Instead, he came to greet her himself. He didn't bow but he treated her with respect, because - as his letter stated - they were equals. And she felt stupid for not realizing that the wolf at his side was one of the legendary direwolves all the Stark children had raised, as she heard.

"Nephew, I admit, I am surprised. I was not expecting you to meet me in person," she said smoothly, betraying no emotion. She expected him to grow angry at her calling him nephew. If he felt anything, he didn't show it.

"You are a Queen just as I am a King. I felt it would be insulting to send for you as though you were not." He motioned to his companions, starting with the older one. "This is Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, and, at the moment, the closest person to a Hand I have." He then gestured to the other man. "This is Lord Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and Warden of the North, my brother in all but blood and name."

"The captain of my Unsullied, Grey Worm," she said, nodding to the Unsullied, "and Ser Jorah Mormont." She didn't fail to notice the look King Jon and Lord Stark exchanged as she mentioned Ser Jorah.

"Welcome to Westeros, then. Please, come with us. We'll arrange for your men to be given food and shelter and discuss the war." With that, her nephew turned and led them back to their horses. There were four, she saw. Three for the King and his companions and one for her. Ser Jorah looked agitated that she would be leaving his presence. She gave him a comforting pat on the arm. If worst came to worse, she had her dragons to protect her.

None of the men made to help her mount. She didn't know to take that as an insult or respect. No doubt they knew that she had traveled with the Dothraki, the "horselord savages." She wondered if that was how they saw her, as a savage.

They rode through the streets in silence. Soldiers rather than people crowded the streets, talking, drinking, eating, whoring. Her dragons had disappeared, no doubt to explore this strange new land. Her army was a ways behind them, continuing on foot.

After some minutes, she decided to break the silence. "You said that you were married to Rhaenys Targaryen, your half-sister," she spoke as she urged her horse forward to ride next to her nephew. He looked at her once, then continued to stare ahead.

"She is near the end of her pregnancy. I didn't want to move her more than is necessary. She will no doubt greet you later." He had a deep voice, soft but calm and sure.

"I see. So it is because of your marriage that Dorne has allied itself with you." It wasn't a question. She knew that Dorne was probably still bitter about Elia's death and Rhaegar and Lyanna's actions.

"Yes." He answered simply. He seemed to be rather solemn, a man of few words.

"Hmm. If you have taken Lannisport, I can guess that only means that you will be going for Casterly Rock next."

His answer surprised her. "We have already taken Casterly Rock."

"What? You control the Westerlands?" She couldn't stop the shock from creeping into her voice. Of all the things she expected, she had not thought her nephew would have conquered most of Westeros already.

"Yes. Our next move is the Stormlands. Stannis Baratheon has proved to be some trouble. He has a Red Priestess with him that claims he is Azor Ahai Reborn, the Prince That Was Promised and rightful King of the realm." There was no bitterness, no hatred to this man whose brother had killed his father - her brother - and was now trying to take his throne. Only sadness.

"You pity him?"

"Pity? No. It saddens me that, despite all our progress, he wishes to continue the bloodshed, all because a woman comes to him and claims he is special."

"Do you shy away from bloodshed, nephew?" She asked coyly. If he couldn't handle blood, then he had no right to be King. Or a Targaryen, for that matter. He looked at her now, and his eyes were hard and cold. The steel behind them shocked her.

"Everyday that this cursed war continues, more lose their lives. Innocents and soldiers alike. I do not shy away from blood. But I do not spill it for nothing." His eyes softened, though they still remained cold. "Winter is coming, and if this war doesn't end soon, we will not be prepared."


	35. A Welcome to the Game

Daenerys soon learned that Jon Targaryen had only come to Lannisport to meet her. The majority of his army - as well as his wife - resided at Casterly Rock. Almost as soon as she and her men had rested and eaten, her nephew had them marching to the Rock. She took this time to fully examine her nephew.

It was true what they said, that he was more Stark than Targaryen. That explained why he was able to hide as Eddard Stark's bastard for so many years. Unless you knew what to look for, it was nearly impossible to see his Valyrian origins. His eyes, for one, were so dark they were almost black. But if you looked closely, there was some violet in them as well. He was lither, more graceful and leaner than Robb Stark, the trueborn son of Jon's uncle. Obviously, that came from his father.

He was a natural born leader. His men were exceptionally loyal to him, even those from Dorne. She'd heard from Lord Stark that, unlike the other "Five Kings," Jon had not declared himself king until his men had named him their king. She was a bit ashamed to say that she had not done that either.

And he didn't just draw loyalty from his soldiers. The people, the small-folk, loved him. They practically worshiped the ground he walked. He gave them peace and prosperity, food and shelter, something that King Joffrey had denied his people.

Everything about him seemed to demand respect, loyalty and love. It was no wonder that Rhaenys had fallen in love with him. He was all that a King should be. And Daenerys found herself wishing to be in her niece's place.

The way she felt about him, it was like nothing she had felt before. With Khal Drogo, she had been afraid at first. She was a girl and a maiden when she married the great Khal. She had come to love him eventually. With Daario Naharis, her feelings were mostly of lust. And why not? He was a confident, handsome mercenary that commanded one of the largest sellsword groups in the Free Cities. But Jon made her feel different. He didn't see her as a plaything or as a woman to use for her power and beauty. He saw her as a Queen, as his aunt, and a true leader. He made her feel wanted and safe, even though they had only just met. And it wasn't just how he treated her. Khal Drogo had been her husband and Daario was one of her captains. Jon was married and her nephew. She almost certainly couldn't have him, and that just made her want him even more.

Jon had promised her the right to rule. He had said that they would share the realm. What better way than through marriage? She wasn't a fool. She wasn't going to try to convince herself that after their first meeting, she was in love with him and that their marriage was meant to be. But they could grow to love on another, with time. She had not voiced these thoughts to him yet, but she planned to, when the moment was right.

* * *

Casterly Rock was not far from Lannisport. It was a huge fortress and foreboding. Once, it might have flown Lannister colors. But now it flew Targaryen and Stark. Lord Stark had told her that his "brother" planned to give the Rock to Tyrion Lannister, should the Imp prove to be an ally.

They had entered the great seat of House Lannister and her nephew immediately took her and his companions to his solar. He said that they needed to plan their next offensive. She couldn't have agreed more.

Inside the King's solar, she found three people. Two wore the white of the Kingsguard. They were introduced to her as Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister. Her shock at seeing the Kingslayer was great. The man who murdered her father had been allowed to serve her nephew, without any punishment for his crime. She didn't bother to hide her resentment, though the Kingslayer merely ignored her.

The third person in the room was obviously Queen Rhaenys. Even without her bulging stomach, she looked every inch a queen, a Targaryen and a Martell. On her head was a circlet, carved in the likes of a dragon, decorated with rubies. Her brown hair was braided and draped over one shoulder, with a winter rose placed just above her ear. Her dress was black and red, the colors of her father's House. Daenerys had heard from Viserys that Rhaenys was supposed to look just like her mother, and Daenerys had no such trouble believing him. She sat at a long table that was covered in maps and messages.

As the door was closed, her niece stood. She gracefully walked over to her husband, whom she greeted and kissed before turning to Daenerys.

"Aunt Daenerys, it is good to see you alive and well," she said in a silky voice. Daenerys could hear no deception in her voice.

"Likewise, Niece. Now, what is our next move?" She asked as she came to stand at the table. The others joined her, including her own captains.

"We plan to take Bitterbridge first and to slowly make our way through the Stormlands. Once we take Storm's End, we'll head for Dragonstone. After that, we conquer the Crownlands," her nephew stated. He seemed confident in this plan, and Daenerys agreed that it would work. But there was still one part of the game they were still missing.

"There is one other issue," she started carefully. They all turned their attention to her, and she could see that Ser Jorah was uneasy with where this was going.

"Just before I left Meereen, we received a letter," she said, handing Jon the letter. She waited a moment before adding, "from someone claiming to be Aegon VI."

None of those who served Jon and Rhaenys seemed surprised. "Yes, we were . . . aware," Rhaenys said. There was a pained look in her eyes, and Daenerys realized that it couldn't have been easy watching someone you believed to be your infant brother have his head smashed against a wall, and then to learn that he lived and was your enemy.

"Why has Dalin said nothing about this?" Jon said, though his questioned was directed at Rhaenys and the two Kingsguard. They were ignoring everyone else in the room. Daenerys wondered who this "Dalin" was.

"I don't know. He may not have known." Her niece didn't sound very certain.

"No. He knows. Your Grace, if there is one thing I have learned from Dalin, it's that something this big would never have escaped his notice," said Ser Barristan. The Kingslayer was nodding his head.

"I agree. The question is why? Why did we have to learn through rumors?" Jon frowned as he stared at his half-sister.

"Because," a new voice said, and everyone except the two Targaryens and the Kingsguard jumped. Ser Jorah and Daario drew their swords. "It was a part of the plan."

Standing in the corner was the man who had brought Jon's terms to Daenarys. Again he seemed to be more shadow than man. She didn't understand how she could have missed such a sinister looking man. In fact, she was almost certain he hadn't been there when they entered.

"What plan are you talking about?" Her nephew asked.

"Lord Varys planned for Rhaenys and Aegon to be reunited after a few years. They were supposed to raise an army and retake Westeros from Robert Baratheon, perhaps even marry in the old Targaryen tradition. But things . . . changed." His voice was expressionless. Goosebumps began to appear on her skin, and she was sure that the temperature had dropped when he began to speak.

"Yes. I married Jon and  _we_  conquered most of Westeros," Rhaenys said.

The man nodded. "Yes. And I saw no reason to tell you until he posed a threat. But I didn't have to. Prince Oberyn heard the rumors surrounding Aegon and brought them to you." He turned to look at her. "And your aunt confirmed it."

She felt uneasy under his gaze. It was like something was crawling on her skin, urging her to scratch it off, but being unable to find the source.

"How long before he reaches Westeros?" Ser Jaime spoke for the first in her presence. He seemed eerily calm. Like Jon.

"A month at least. Autumn storms may heed his journey here," Dalin said in the same monotone voice.

Rhaenys came to stand before Dalin. "Thank you, my friend," she whispered. He bowed his head and - right before Daenarys' eyes - disappeared in a swirl of shadows.

She was still overcoming the shock of having a man - if that's what he even was - disappear right in fucking front of her when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She found herself looking at Jon.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She realized how pale she must have looked.

"Yes, yes, just . . ."

Jon chuckled at her loss for words. "He has that effect on people. I need to go overlook some arrangements for our march to the Stormlands. I will see you at dinner." Without another word, he left, the Blackfish and the Young Wolf following. Everyone dispersed until, eventually, it was only her, Ser Jorah, the Kingslayer and Rhaenys in the room.

" _Khaleesi_ , perhaps you should go and get some rest," Ser Jorah said quietly. She saw the look he gave Ser Jaime.

She placed one hand on his arm and answered, "You go ahead, Ser. I would like some time to speak with my niece."

"Then I will stay to guard you."

"Do not worry, Ser Jorah," Rhaenys spoke softly. She came over to Daenarys and wrapped one arm in hers. "Ser Jaime and Dalin will watch over us."

"I do not trust you or the Kingslayer," he hissed at her niece. The venom in his voice surprised her. He had never reacted so badly to anyone before.

"You will. I trust my aunt and Jaime and Dalin. But I do not trust  _you_. My husband has told me of your crimes. Oh yes, you are still being held accountable for that. I also know of some of your . . . other work," she paused. Ser Jorah's face paled visibly. "So you will leave us."

"I-I, um, y-yes," he stammered before all but running out of the room. Daenarys looked to her niece in confusion.

"What were you talking about?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with now. It will all be settled once the war is done." Rhaenys led her down a hallway and continued to talk. "I hope you realize Jon will still execute Ser Jorah for his crimes."

"I pardoned him. As far as I'm concerned, he has done no wrong."

"You freed the people of all the slave cities across the Narrow Sea because you did not wish to see people enslaved, did you not Aunt? By letting Ser Jorah live, you will be going against all of that. Jorah Mormont was sentenced to death because he sold poachers as slaves. People will no longer see you as the 'Breaker of Shackles.' They will see you as a Queen who let a slaver escape justice because she enjoyed his company. And with the way things are in King's Landing, whispers will start and before you know it, rumors will spread of how you fuck Jorah Mormont and sell anyone that displeases you as a slave."

Daenarys looked at Rhaenys incredulously. "You would start something like that just to prove a point?"

Her niece laughed quietly, though it lacked any humor. " _I_ would not. But there are those who would. I have been playing this game much longer than you, Aunt. I have spent time in King's Landing, in the court. It is the Viper's Nest. Something as simple as a knight kissing a lady's cheek while they are alone could become the knight fucked the lady and all her children are his bastards. Oh, I know it sounds absurd. But you won't be saying that once the rumors spread and soon, the whole court is your enemy. You have to learn how to survive."

"From what I can tell, my nephew is an honest, honorable man. If I can't survive, what makes you think he can?"

"Jon has Dalin and Lord Varys and myself serving him. Not only that, but I have taught him how to play the game. He will not use deceit or trickery, that much is certain. But he will not make the same mistakes Eddard Stark made." She sighed. They had come to a balcony over-looking Casterly Rock. A stone bench had been placed on it. Rhaenys sat down and rubbed her stomach. Daenerys recalled the discomforts that came with pregnancy.

"Jon proved that he was not someone to be fooled so easily when he destroyed House Frey and ended House Westerling. He will survive King's Landing. But will you? You are an outsider, a stranger who has come here to lay a claim to the Iron Throne. The people will come to accept you over time, maybe sooner than they would have had you come alone or with Aegon. But they will never love you like they do Jon. Even as a Queen, there is not much you can hope to do for our House. I know about your son, Rhaego. I know about Mirri Maz Duur's promise, that you are barren and will never be able to give a husband children."

Daenarys' heart ached as she thought of her son.  _The Stallion That Will Mount the World._ Her baby boy, murdered by Mirri Maz Duur.

"I like you, Daenarys. I wish to see you happy, like I do the rest of my family, blood or otherwise. But do not presume that you know more than us. Your life has been spent across the Narrow Sea. Things are different here." Rhaenys got up to leave. Just as she was about to leave, she turned to say one last thing to Daenarys.

"Take this to heart, Aunt. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Rhaenys comes off as kind of a bitch to Dany. But that's just the way things are. This is also the end of Dany chapters for now. I hope you enjoyed them and don't worry, there are more to come.
> 
> BTW: Dany doesn't know about Ser Jorah selling her out to Robert Baratheon.


	36. Storm's End

The Stormlands. The part of Westeros that had belonged to the Baratheons since Orys had slain the last of the Storm Kings, Argilac the Arrogant. This was the land that Robert Baratheon would have been lord of, had he not killed Rhaegar and taken the Iron Throne. This was now where Robert Baratheon's brother, Stannis, resided. Defeated by the Lannisters in the Battle of Blackwater Bay, he had retreated to Storm's End with his force of nearly one thousand.

Rhaenys and Daenerys had both wanted to kill Stannis Baratheon. They wanted to make him pay. It was almost laughable how similar the two women thought alike. Almost, but not quite. Jon had instead chosen to treat with Stannis; it was Robert that killed his father and started the war, not Stannis. By no means should Stannis have to pay for his brother's actions.

"Do you think he'll listen to us?" Robb asked, ridinng beside him. Daenerys and Jaime Lannister were a ways behind them, speaking with one another. Her dragons were nowhere to be seen. They had passed Summerhall, hardly bothering to stop despite the curiosity of both Jon and Daenerys. It was supposedly where Rhaegar had been born, and as both had heard, where it all began. But they had more pressing matters that concerned them; their goal was Storm's End, where Stannis had holed himself up.

Jon shrugged. "I don't know. He listens to the Red Woman, perhaps she can help convince him to surrender peacefully." He didn't mention that Melisandre would more than likely just kill Stannis if he refused to give up to them. The woman would do anything for her prophecy.

"I don't think we'll be able to do this without much bloodshed." His brother - cousin, he had to remind himself, although Robb would never stop being his brother - looked to him. "Not everyone can be saved, you know."

"I know. We can only hope he'll listen to reason. Superior forces, a better claim, a larger grasp on the country; what else does Stannis need to know that he's beaten?"

"He'll fight for what he believes in, and he believes he has the rightful claim to the throne. He's a stubborn man and an honest one, I think. Reminds me of someone else," Robb added, nudging Jon's shoulder.

"You're thinking of Rhaenys. She's the one who fought all those years. I'm just a front. She's the mastermind behind it all," he said, laughing alongside Robb. It felt good to laugh again; he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like.

Their conversation was interrupted by a rider, one of the scouts sent ahead. He reined up near Jon. "Your Grace," he began, "Lord Stannis has sent a group of men. They will be here soon."

"Thank you. Rest, you've done good work," Jon commanded the rider, who left with a nod. He turned to Robb. "What do you make of it?"

His cousin shook his head. "Could be Stannis has found his senses and is sending them to escort you. Or it could be that they are here to hopefully kill you. Either way, we won't know anything until we speak with them."

 _Melisandre wouldn't let him kill me. I'm too precious to her,_ he thought to himself. No, the riders were here to escort them or to warn them off. Stannis wouldn't act without Melisandre, and Melisandre wouldn't allow this.

Within some minutes, they could see the group in the distance. There were around six or seven men, carrying a stag in a fiery heart. Storm's End was still a few miles away, so it was a little strange to see them now. Some nearby archers drew back their bows, but Jon had them stand down. If Stannis wanted to talk peace, he wouldn't botch it up because of a misunderstanding.

They slowed as they approached, stopping completely in front of Jon. One of them brought his horse forward a little more, showing himself to be the leader. "His Grace, Kinng Stannis, offers to speak with Lord Stark and his half-brother, Jon Snow."

Robb bristled next to him, and Jon had to fight to contain his anger.  _Six of the eight kingdoms belong to me, and he still denies my claim.  
_

"You will address him as King Jon," Robb growled, "and speak with more respect. Or are you so blind that you cannot see the army of ten thousand behind us?"

The man's face was red, though from rage or humiliation, Jon wasn't sure. He spoke through gritted teeth, "You may have an army, but Kinng Stannis has the one true claim. You will bow to him.."

A soft chuckle had most of them turning around to find the source. Jon didn't bother, he knew who is was. Daenerys led her horse over to them, her bloodriders following. "Stannis is a usurper. The dragon eats the stag. We will not bow to your false king."

"We are here to speak with the pretender and Lord Stark, not some whore that serves one or both of them." The man spoke as though just that disgusted him.

Daenerys' eyes blazed, but she grinned menacingly. "I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men,  _Khaleesi_ of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, Mother of Dragons, and the second wife of King Jon Targaryen. Who are you?" Her claim wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a complete lie, either. They were betrothed, and they would be married probably as soon as they had the Stormlands under control.

The man's eyes had widened, and he tried to hide his surprise. "I am Ser Axell Florent, brother of the Queen Selsye."

"Well, Ser Axell, you would do well not to insult my nephew. Our army is much larger than whatever forces you have. And I have three dragons. We could just as easily burn you as we could speak with you. In fact," she added thoughtfully, "burning you might be easier."

Ser Axell looked uneasy, as did his companions. Whether they believed that she had dragons or not, they had an army right behind them, and a single word could have the envoy killed. None of them seemed prepared to die.

"Daenerys, that won't be necessary," Jon interrupted before his aunt could say anything more. She gave him an innocent smile. "We will go with Ser Axell Florent to Storm's End and hear what Stannis Baratheon has to say." Just to be sure Stannis's men did not become too confident, he added, "Then we will decide if they shall burn or not."

* * *

Storm's End was an impressive fortress. Its walls were massive and thick, surrounding it completely. The seaward side led to a drop into the water below. The tower accommodated many of the necessary rooms comfortably. Stored inside was enough food to last nearly a year. And if that wasn't enough, the castle had never fallen to a siege or a storm in all its history. It was obvious why Stannis chose to come here rather than Dragonstone.

Jon's army had been left outside the walls, uneasy with their king entering with little guard. Only Jon, Robb, Jaime, and Daenerys had been allowed to enter. Stannis refused to allow anyone else inside; he wanted to talk peace and that was it. Lady Melisandre had not shown her face yet, though the men spoke of her enough.

Axell Florent led them to meet with Stannis. The man was arrogant, boastful, incompetent - Jon was thankful Daenerys' dragons weren't there. They may have reflected her mood and decided to eat the idiot. It wouldn't have helped their cause in any way possible.

"Your Grace, I present Lord Robb Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, and Jon Snow," Ser Axell announced. He smirked as he passed Jon, pleased that he could get away with naming Jon a bastard. He only glared at the man. Nothing could be done of it yet.

As it happened, Jon or his companions didn't need to say anything regarding what Axell Florent had called him. "He is Jon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna," Melisandre chided the knight. She stood from where she had been sitting at the head of the table, walking past a flustered Axell Florent.

She stopped before Jon. "Your Grace," she said in a low voice, bowing her head. The red ruby at her throat pulsed like a heartbeat.

"Lady Melisandre," he said in return. His eyes flickeered over to the figure at the table. Melisandre, without following his gaze, answered the unspoken question.

"Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End." Stannis was not exactly what Jon had been expecting. He was large, like his brother Robert, and had the black Baratheon hair. He had a beard on his jaw, and his skin was taut on his face. His eyes were dark blue, and watched Jon with mistrust.

There was silence between the two of them, broken only by the crackling of a fire. No doubt, Melisandre insisted on having it fed and alight at all times. Jon had stepped closer to the table, shadowed by his three companions. The only others in the room were Melisandre, Ser Axell Florent, Stannis, and a man they had yet to be introduced to.

Stannis was the one to speak first. "So you are Jon Targaryen, the man trying to take my throne from me." Jon had to send Daenerys a pointed look to keep her from speaking up against that. _You'll have your chance._

"I am," he answered, "and you must be Stannis Baratheon, the man laying claim to the throne my family built." Stannis's lips formed a half-smile.

He gestured to the unknown man. "This is my Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth." Davos gave a nod of acknowledgment. "My sister's brother, Ser Axell Florent." Ser Axell gave Jon a look of hate. "And Melisandre of Asshai, a priestess of the Lord of Light."

"My Hand, Robb Stark. One of my Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. My aunt, Daenerys," Jon replied calmly.

Stannis looked at everyone of them, as if judging who they were. "Take a seat." They did as he bid them; it was his holdfast and they would listen to him for now. "Why are you here, Jon Targaryen?"

"To talk peace. There is no reason for the two of us to be fighting."

"There is plenty of reason. My claim is strongest to the Iron Throne, it is mine by right."

"That may be so, but the people of Westeros wish for me to be their king. Dorne, the Reach, the North, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands - they all support me. The Westerlands lay under my control. You barely hold Storm's End," he pointed out as inoffensively as he could. Stannis still clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

"I have the true claim."

"Does it really matter if I can just as easily defeat you in battle? My father had the true claim. Your brother killed him and took his throne. What is stopping me from doing the same?"

Instead of answering, Stannis changed the subject. "You are married to your half-sister, are you not? Why is she not here with you?"

"She remains behind in Casterly Rock, safe."

"Do you fear for her life then? Is that why she has not come with you? Because you do not think you can protect her?" Jon forced himself to remain calm. Stannis was only trying to provoke him.

"She stays because I think we would both prefer our son to be born somewhere as safe as Casterly Rock." His statement was met by surprise from most. Obviously, Melisandre had not informed them that Rhaenys was with child.

Jon continued on the original matter. "I have an heir, an army, and most of the Seven Kingdoms. Why do you still defy me? I was told you were a just man, a reasonable man. How is fighting against impossible odds reasonable?"

"I have the blessing of the Lord of Light," Stannis said, his voice practically a growl.

"Do you really believe that?" Jon asked, shaking his head. Stannis nodded.

"King Stannis is the Lord's Chosen. He is the one true king," Axell Florent declared, glaring at Jon.

"Melisandre visited me while I was on my deathbed. She healed me, then told me that the Lord of Light had chosen me to be the one that defeats the Great Other. I do not believe in R'hllor; my faith remains in the old gods. Yet, if she says that you are the one true king, why is it that the seven kingdoms have chosen me as their ruler?" His question was met with silence, broken only by the grinding of Stannis's teeth.

Stannis turned to Melisandre. "Is it true, what he says?"

Melisandre appeared completely unfazed by any of this. "Yes. I did not see clearly in my fires. I was wrong." She turned to Jon. "You are Azor Ahai, the Lord's Chosen. You will defeat the Great Other, and rule as the king of the Seven Kingdoms." She had walked over to Jon, her hand now resting on his cheek. He had an overwhelming urge to step away, but refrained from doing so.

The door burst open suddenly. They turned to see one of the guards rushing in. "Your Grace," he said, bowing to Stannis, "enemy ships have been spotted out in the sea."

"Lannister? Or Ironborn?" Stannis demanded, angry now. "Have you gone back on your word and betrayed us, Jon Targaryen?" Ser Axell drew his sword, taking a step in Jon's direction. Jaime and Robb unsheathed their own.

"We have done nothing. They are not our ships," Jon said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. His fleet remained in Lannisport, having no immediate use in the war.

"Your Grace." The guard regained everyone's attention. "They were not flying Jon Targaryen's banner. They only flew a three-headed dragon."

It all made sense now. Jon exchanged a look with Daenerys, and he could see the same expression of surprise reflected on her face.

"Aegon," they said together.


	37. The Trident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapters catches the story up to the version on Fanfiction.net. Which means the next update might take some time.

"He has finally come," Daenerys commented from atop the walls of Storm's End. Jon only nodded in silent agreement. They had known this day would come, had been waiting for it. They had hoped that the battle - if there was to be one, for they hoped there could be peace - would ensue on their own terms. It was not to be.

There were eight ships, each flying the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. His lords estimated there would be nearly ten thousand men fighting for Aegon. The enemy had yet to land, and looked to be sailing south, likely to find a more strategic place to land.

"Have a raven sent to Casterly Rock. Inform them that Aegon is here and that we need ten thousand more men and a fleet of thirty ships," he ordered Robb, who stood not far behind his aunt. He nodded and walked away to carry out his command. "Where are your dragons?"

"I do not know. But don't worry, if they sense their mother is in danger, they will come." Jon prayed she was right. They would need all their strength to defeat his half-brother.  _No, not brother. Robb is my brother. Bran and Rickon are my brothers. I don't know Aegon._

"We have an army of ninety-six thousand men, with a fleet of nearly one hundred and fifty ships. We should be able to easily defeat this pretender," Daenerys said confidently. Jon could not share in her belief.

"But we only have ten thousand with us. It will take time for another ten thousand to join us."

"So? Aegon wants to land. Let him. We can go on the defensive, hold him back until the reinforcements arrive. As soon as the fleet comes, we can cut off any escape."

"It might not be as simple as that," he pressed, trying to get her to see reason.

She leaned closer to him, looking him straight in the eye and cupping his cheek. "We have three dragons. He does not. Listen to me, Jon: burn them."

He shook his head. "No, we need to give them a chance-"

"A chance at what? To kill us all?"

He glared at her. "A chance for peace."

"Why? Why would you give him peace?"

"Because I refuse to just crush their forces without ever giving them the option to choose to fight. I will not kill men without ever giving them a choice." He spoke with such ferocity. Surprisingly, Daenerys's face softened.

"You will be a good king. I think you have your flaws, but Rhaenys and I make up for them. Your rule will be great," she murmured. She pressed a soft kiss against his lips before leaving him to look over the Stormlands, contemplating their next move.

 _If only Rhaenys were here,_ he thought.  _I could use her strength right now. And her temper._ But he didn't dare summon her. Even if she had not been pregnant, he would prefer to keep her as far away as possible. At least if he and their forces at Storm's End fell, she would have a secure holdfast and an army to defend from the invaders.

Sighing, he left the vigil he had taken since the guard first informed them of Aegon's arrival. Stannis had agreed to fight for them. In return, he would be made Lord of Storm's End and would be given a place on the council. They were willing to oblige to his requests; it wasn't much he was asking for.

On his way to wherever he was going (for he was just wandering the castle at this point) he ran into Melisandre. She smiled when she saw him, and greeted him with a  _Your Grace._

"Melisandre," he replied. He gave a stiff bow and began to walk past her. She turned and followed him, entwining her arm with his. Jon didn't bother to shake her off. She wouldn't be doing this if she didn't have something to say.

And indeed she did have something to say. "The False Prince will be defeated. You are the Lord's Chosen; his blessing goes with you into battle."

"Have you seen this in your fires then?" He still didn't quite believe in her Red God, although it could not be denied that she had power of some kind.

"Yes. The Lord of Light has shown me your victory. You will win this battle."

"Did he show you how much we would lose? How long it would be before we won? Did he show you what we would have to give up for this victory?" he asked, a little more sharply than intended. It didn't really matter, though. He was tired of all this mystery. She couldn't just tell him he would win and expect him to be ecstatic. Men died in war, and he wanted to know how many he would lose.

Melisandre smiled sadly. "The Lord shows us what he will. No more, no less. If he wanted you to know your losses, he would have shown me."

Jon had guessed as much. That was part of the reason why he wasn't entirely sure if it was a god that was giving her this power or if she had some kind of power of her own. Her god could have shown her his victory, or she could be guaranteeing it by her aid in the battle. In any way, he wouldn't know until he died. And he did not intend to die just yet.

It was Dalin that saved him from the Red Woman. They turned a corner to find the shade leaning up against a wall, flicking a dagger between his fingers. Melisandre instantly halted, and hate showed in Dalin's dark eyes.

"Demon," she hissed at him.

"Witch," the shade replied calmly.

"Away with you,  _monster._  The Lord of Light has blessed Jon Targaryen. Leave the presence of R'hllor." It was the most emotion Jon had ever seen come from her. Her face was a mask of anger, and the absolute loathing from Dalin was reflected in her. Her body had stiffened and she clutched Jon's arm tightly.

Dalin let out a short bark of laughter before his face (what could be seen, anyway) became serious once again. "Fuck R'hllor," he growled dangerously.

Melisandre released Jon's arm, taking a step back. "I must leave you now, Your Grace. I do not wish to be in that  _thing's_ presence any longer." As she started to walk away, she turned back for a final word. "Do not trust such a creature of the dark, Your Grace."

"Bitch," Dalin spat once she was gone. Jon shook his head, slightly amused by what had happened, but also worried.

"I don't think you have to be that rude," he said.

Dalin shrugged his shoulders. "The hag deserved it. She's not to be trusted."

"Funny. She said the same about you."

"Yes, well at least I have actually proved to be an ally. And a friend. I have saved you before, have I not?"

"So has she."

"But I have more times than her."

Jon chuckled then. "Point taken." Remembering what awaited them outside, the conversation became serious once again. "What can you tell me about Aegon's forces?"

They walked down the halls, headed for the rooms Jon had been given. Each step Dalin took left a trail of shadows in their wake, which disappeared not long after they moved away. Jon had never noticed that before, or it had never been there until at the moment. The inky blackness left behind made the shade appear as though he were gliding.

"Aegon has about one thousand man per ship. He had ten, but two were lost in the journey. They may show up, they may not."

"That puts his force at around eight thousand men."

"Precisly. They have horses and elephants with them, adding to their strength."

"Do you know where they will land?"

"I would guess Cape Wrath. From there they would head to Griffin's Roost."

Jon nodded in understanding, though he was still confused by one thing. "I know that it is closer to here than many other available castles, but why Griffin's Roost? It could pose a danger with an enemy force so near."

"Aegon's second-in-command - and his Hand, as it would seem - is the disgraced Jon Connington, former Lord of Griffin's Roost."

"Connington? Wasn't he a close friend of Rhaegar's? And didn't he drink himself to death in exile?"

Dalin shook his head. "He was close to Rhaegar, but he never died. That was part of Varys' original plan: Aegon would be raised by someone as loyal as Connignton."

"Why wouldn't Connington support me, though? By the claim you and Rhaenys make, I  _am_ Rhaegar's son. There is no proof that Aegon is who he says he is."

"There are two reasons that I determine are the reasons behind this action. One being because it is just as likely that Aegon was smuggled out of King's Landing as it is that he died there. And the other is that I believe Connington's decision has more to do on an emotional level than a logical one."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, brow furrowed. He didn't understand what Dalin saying.

"I believe that Jon Connington was in love with Rhaegar. He has repeatedly referred to your father as his 'Silver Prince' and the affection in his voice does not seem to be only as a close friend. No, it would make more sense for him to have loved Rhaegar in that way. Aegon looks very much like Rhaegar did, further supporting his claim to be Aegon VI Targaryen. It could be that Connington sees this as a way to make up for what he could not do with Rhaegar. And if not," the shade added, "Connington  _did_  raise the boy. In the same way Eddard Stark would have supported your claim, Jon Connington supports Aegon's."

They stopped. They had reached Jon's chambers. Jon didn't want to know when Dalin had discovered Connington's affection for his father. Or how. And although the idea still confused him, he did understand what Dalin was essentially saying.

"Tell me true, Dalin. What do you think our chances of winning this thing are?" Melisandre may have seen their victory, but Jon trusted Dalin more than he did the her. If Dalin thought they could win, then they most certainly could.

Dalin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Honestly Jon, you have superior forces. Even if Aegon managed to defeat you here, he wouldn't get far before meeting an army eight times the size of his own. He wouldn't stand a chance. But we have you commanding us. I believe that you can win this and you can defeat Aegon Targaryen."

* * *

It had been two weeks since Aegon arrived. His forces had done what Dalin predicted, and sailed to Cape Wrath. Now, they were marching for Storm's End. Rhaenys had sent him a raven, telling him the men and ships he had asked for were on their way. She had also begged him to be careful. He had every intent to do so.

"The walls have been fortified. A thousand men remain inside the castle, ready to defend it if needed. The rest are outside Storm's End, preparing to meet Aegon's army," Robb reported. Jon, Daenerys, and several others were gathered in Stannis's solar, planning the battle. Only those who he trusted (or needed) most were with him.

"Good. I want the men ready to engage the enemy. They can't attack by sea; they'll come at us from the land. Make sure we are prepared for siege, if it comes to that," Jon said, turning to one of his lords. The man nodded and left the room to see to his king's command.

"There are elephants with them. Horses too. We'll need to be ready for that," Daenerys said, a frown gracing her features. "Some of our horsemen could charge them, of course. My Dothraki will join them; they are great warriors on horseback. But what about the elephants? What can be done about them?"

There was a thoughtful silence in which they all considered what they would do. Jaime broke it with his suggestion. "If any come near the walls, we could drop pitch on them, then rain down flaming arrows." The Kingsguard shrugged his shoulders. "Not much can be done when they're not close. And even then, they don't pose much of a threat."

"And what of Aegon himself?" Jon turned his head to regard Stannis with a questioning expression. He'd only allowed the man into their meeting because of their alliance; it wouldn't do for Stannis to betray them while they were inside his walls.

"I will deal with Aegon," Jon said immediately. His half-brother (if what he claimed was true) would want to face him. Fewer men would die if he just gave him what he wanted.

"You don't mean to give yourself up to Aegon, do you?" Daenerys asked, concerned now. Maybe she wanted the throne more than him, but their relationship was not as bad as it had been when she first arrived. She cared for him, in her own sense.

He shook his head. "He'll want to battle with me. He's shown no sign of giving into peace. He'll want to defeat me on his own, to show everyone that he is the true king."

"And if he succeeds?"

"He won't," he said dismissively, answering his aunt's question. "Aegon thinks that if he can defeat me, the army will acknowledge him as their new king. Even if I do die, Rhaenys lives on with my child. The Dornish will never back down so long as she and the child are alive. The Tyrells are loyal to the North through marriage, and the North is loyal to me. That is three of the largest and most powerful parts of Westeros that will never bow to him. He may kill me, but the war won't be over."

That didn't seem to be enough for his aunt. With scorn she asked, "So you would risk sacrificing yourself- you, our  _king_  - because you think that our army will just rally around your wife? Dorne might, but Dorne is not enough to hold back Aegon."

"If it means taking the chance of killing him, of ending him, then yes," he replied. She couldn't understand. How could she? There weren't thousands of lives depending on her. There were men out there that would die for him. And he didn't want them to. Why should he live when so many others had to die? What made him so much more important then them? He wouldn't risk so many lives if it meant he could kill Aegon.

He had been facing away from her, but now she put two fingers under his chin and turned his head to meet her eyes. There was a strange sort of affection, a fondness, and something like pity in her eyes. "We have come this far because of you. You lead us to victory, you brought us to this point. The men look to you because you are their leader. Your intentions are noble, but nothing good will come of it. The men may rally once again for Rhaenys and your child, but they will not hold the same hope or loyalty or faith in them as they did in you."

Her hands moved to hold his face. "Do not do this Jon. Don't give him what he wants. Men will die in war. There are some leaders that condemn their men to die without a second thought, and their men only fight because they have to. But your men came to you because they chose to. They will die for you. It is not fair, I know, but do not throw away their loyalty as you are. Wars are fought and won on the battlefield and at home. The war is being fought at home. Now win this war on the battlefield."

* * *

_Jon found himself on the Trident. He knew it from his time in the Riverlands. But it was different now. Two armies, or maybe five for all the confusion that reigned, clashed on the shore, in the waters, and for some miles into the distance._

_He was little more than ankle-deep in the water, and as he looked down, he realized with a start that he wore armor. Grey plate armor, encrusted with rubies and marked with the three-headed dragon of house Targaryen. In his hand was a greatsword, heavier than Longclaw._

_"RHAEGAR!" a voice roared above the screeching of steel and men, alike. Jon lifted his head quickly, searching in vain for a glimpse of his father. It didn't make sense; Rhaegar had died before he was born. Could he have somehow been sent back to this battle, whichever it was?_

_All he could see was a large man, warhammer swinging out at any unfortunate enough to be in his way. The antlers on his helmet had Jon thinking that this man had to be of the House Baratheon. And considering all the circumstances in which Jon found himself, it could only mean that man was Robert Baratheon himself._

_"RHAEGAR!" he screamed again, shoving a man out of his way. It might have been one of his own men, but in this state, Jon doubted Robert Baratheon would ever be able to notice. Every step he took brought Robert nearer to Jon, and he hoped that maybe the best friend of his father-uncle would be able to help him. Maybe he would be able to see Ned Stark, too._

_It wasn't until Robert shouted a third time, "RHAEGAR!" and continued to make his way to Jon, never changing direction, never straying from course, that Jon realized with a sinking feeling he was the intended target of Robert Baratheon's fury._

_He wanted to yell that he was not Rhaegar, that he wasn't even supposed to be alive yet! Before he could even open his mouth, Robert was upon him, warhammer coming down in a deadly arch. Jon only managed to dodge it because of instincts ingrained from sparring and the battlefield. He rolled away, splashing through the water and drenching himself with it._

_Raising his sword, he moved into a defensive position, hoping to hold off the blows from Robert long enough to get his point across._

_Robert came at him again, swinging his warhammer back and forth, forcing Jon to scurry out of the way. He was practically hopping away from the attacks, never having met the other man with his sword. He was gasping for breath, chest heaving with every breath he managed to get. It still wasn't enough air, and he knew that he had to rest, had to find some respite or this battle would be over soon._

_The opportunity came when Robert had to stop for a mere second to catch his own breath. Jon charged him, tackling the other, bigger man to the ground. Robert was so disorientated that it took him awhile to realize Jon had gotten up and was pointing his sword under his chin._

_"Do it, you thieving bastard. Kill me now in cold blood," he spat in hatred._

_Jon, however, did not do it. Instead, he moved the sword an inch or so away from Robert's neck. The other man watched him with surprise, probably not expecting his enemy to show him mercy. "Listen to me, Robert: my name is Jon Snow. My uncle is Eddard Stark, your best friend. I don't know how I got here or why you think I'm Rhaegar Targaryen, but I don't belong here. Please, help me. Take me to my uncle."_

_"Lying whoreson! You think I'm so stupid as to believe your lies? You stole my betrothed, the love of my life. You murdered the family of my brother. Speak the truth or kill me now. I don't want to hear your lying words." What little Jon could see of his eyes, however, showed doubt. He knew what Robert was probably thinking: Rhaegar could have escaped long before the battle began. This man before him could be telling the truth._

_"I will show you I speak true." Jon reached for his helmet, now having dropped the sword to the ground. Using one hand, he managed to pull off the heavy piece of metal, surprised to find an ornate dragon wing stretching down the middle of his head._

_He expected to see a look of shock from his opponent, expected to see dark curls falling down across his face. Instead, he was met with a mixed expression of absolute loathing and sadistic joy on Robert's face, was met with silver strands of hair reaching his shoulders._

_His heart in his throat, he realized he was no longer in his own body. Robert had been right; somehow, he was in his father's body, on the day and in the place that he died. He was Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and the man that started Robert's Rebellion._

_Robert lunged forward. Jon managed to bring his sword up in time to block Robert's warhammer. The blow jarred his whole body, but soon enough he was blocking attack after attack, fighting for dear life. He was on the defensive now, hardly getting in his own attacks._

_He felt a glimmer of hope when he slashed his sword up in a moment when Robert had to stop. The result was blood spilling from his enemy's wound and a screamed curse in pain. Much of Robert's strength seemed to leave his body, and Jon allowed himself to think that maybe, this battle could be won._

_But Robert wasn't done yet. He began attacking wildly with the strength that remained to him. His warhammer was a blur of grey, coming down again and again._

_It all ended when Jon wasn't fast enough to block a blow, and Robert's warhammer came sailing down into his chest. For a fleeting second, he felt nothing, could only marvel at the sickening crunch as the bones in this chest were crushed and broken, at the blood and rubies that flew in all directions, at the metal that caved in above his skin._

_The the pain set in, the reality of what was happening._

_He could barely breathe, for one. It was like drowning, except much worse. _His lungs were crushed, so every attempted breath sounded a scream on its own._ The metal and bone were cutting into his skin and organs, ripping him apart even more. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before - like fire and ice, like burning and freezing, like being crushed from the inside and the out. There were hardly any words to fully explain just what he was feeling in this moment._

_He stared dumbly, tears pouring out of his eyes in the pain, as Robert gripped his warhammer with both hands and heaved, removing his weapon with another crunch. A scream sounded, and it took Jon a moment to realize it was from his mouth that the sound came from._

_His vision was tunneling, becoming blacker and blacker with every passing second. Air was no longer going into his body. He felt light-headed and dizzy, and the agonizing pain was fading, slowly. The last he saw was Robert's triumphant face as he stared down at Jon, his enemy defeated._

* * *

When he finally awoke, he gasped in as much air as he could and clutched desperately at his chest. He was whole and fine, the pain gone, the ghosts long dead. It had only been a dream, only a dream.

He was still trying to tell himself that when the knock sounded at his door.

Jon had left his bed, preferring instead to stand by the window from which moonlight streamed into the room. He watched the fires from both the worshipers of R'hllor and the army inside the walls of Storm's End. Dawn would break in a matter of minutes. His hand shook as he brought a glass of water to his lips.

"Enter," he called, never taking his eyes off of the fires outside. The door opened and closed, and he heard them walking in. They put a hand on his shoulder.

"Jon?"

"I'm fine, brother." Robb was his brother, not Aegon. It didn't matter what Daenerys or any of the others said.

He didn't need to see Robb's face to know that he was concerned. "Are you sure-"

"I'm fine," he said sharply, regretting his terse reply instantly. He sighed in frustration; he was tired but he wouldn't be able to sleep. Now, he was snapping at his closest and most trusted companion in his irritation. He turned to face his brother. "Sorry."

Robb's face broke out in a smile. "You're a king. You don't apologize for anything."

A laugh escaped Jon's lips, which quickly turned into a choked sob. He fell to the floor, head in his hands. He'd never broken down so much before, not even in Rhaenys's presence. But the weight of his crown and the after-affects of the dream were killing him. He may have woken up, but the pain and fear were still seared into his mind.

His brother let out a terrified, "Jon," and fell to his knees beside him. Carefully, he cradled his brother's body against him, repeating, "It will be alright, it will be alright." Robb wouldn't judge his brother. A lord's duties were hard enough, a king's were worse. He did not fault Jon for finally cracking under the pressure. He only wished he could have brought better news.

"We need you, brother," he said. "You are our king. We need you to lead us, now more than ever."

Eventually, he managed to calm down, only just after the dawn brought light to the dark world. Jon stood shakily, leaning on Robb to help him up. He wiped the tears he hadn't realized were falling from his eyes, already hardening himself to serve his kingdom.

"What news do you bring?" he asked after a few moments and a cup of wine later. He was in control of himself once again, hiding behind the mask he had made.

Robb stared into his brother's eyes, determination filling his gaze as he answered, "Aegon has come. He's not demanding single-combat. He's leading his army against our walls, our army." He gripped his brother's shoulder. "You are the king. Give us your orders, Your Grace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the battle between Aegon and Jon. This is the longest chapter I've written thus far, so I had to split this and the battle in two. Yeah, so leave a comment and kudos.


	38. The Dragons Clash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to be this long. I'm sorry for the wait, but this chapter took me a long time to write. I don't know what happened, but now it's this long.

**Aegon POV**

"Your Grace," Strickland said, bowing before him, "the bastard usurper is readying his army to attack."

Aegon waved away the commander of his Golden Company absentmindedly. He didn't need to see to know that Jon Targaryen was preparing himself and his traitor army for battle. He only wished to be the one that drove a sword through Jon Targaryen's chest, wished to present the bastard's head to Rhaenys.

 _Hold on, my dear sister,_ he whispered in his head, praying that she could somehow hear him.  _I'm coming. I'll free you, I swear._

"Boy," another voice said. He turned his head, gazing at his Hand, Jon Connington. The grizzled, older man stood in the entrance of Aegon's tent, watching him intently. He felt himself growing uncomfortable under the intense stare of his mentor and foster father.

He pushed himself away from the table he had been leaning on. Reports and maps scattered the tabletop, and the plans for his conquering of Westeros were laid out before them. A certain sense of pride elicited itself inside of him at the sight; all that had to be done was put the ideas to action. And once he destroyed Jon Targaryen, nothing would stand between himself and his kingdom.

"Is there something you wished to speak about, Lord Connington?" he asked in a formal voice. When he looked and saw a slightly hurt expression on Connington's face, he added in a softer tone, "What is it, Jon? What do you need?"

The man smiled fondly at him. In the same way Aegon was proud of his plans, so Connington was proud of the boy he had raised to become a man.

"You will win a great victory today. You will defeat Jon Targaryen, you will take Storm's End, and you will be so much closer to taking your throne." Connington had entered the tent and stood before Aegon. He seemed to be taking him in, and nodded in approval at what he found.

His eyes teared up for a moment, and Aegon was reminded of the last time he had seen a Targaryen off to war. Gently, he grasped Connington's hands in his and gave a comforting squeeze. "No matter how much you tell me I am, I'm not my father. I look like him, I fight like him, I think like him. But I will not make his same mistakes. I swear to you, I will come back from this fight."

That seemed to give Connington some comfort. His face softened, to a point Aegon wasn't sure he'd ever seen. "You are - and will be - a great king. The people have been lied to, deceived. Once they see that you are the true king, they will bow down to you."

"Yes," Aegon muttered darkly, "once I have Jon Targaryen's head on a spike."

Connington stiffened at those words, and before Aegon could ask what was on his mind, Jon said, "Would it not be better to take Jon Targaryen hostage? The North and Riverlands are the most loyal to him; Robb Stark is of Stark and Tully blood, and thinks of himself as a brother to the bastard usurper. Make him a prisoner, and we can force them into bending the knee."

Aegon considered it for a second - a second - before shaking his head, no. When Connington began to protest, he spoke over him. "Jon Targaryen has usurped my throne, my kingdom. He has stolen my sister-wife, has raped her and gotten her with child. The people believe he is their leader. If I am to save my sister and take my throne, I  _must kill him._ "

"Boy-" Connington began.

Aegon slammed his fist down onto the table. "I am not a boy! Do not call me that! I am your king, and you will treat me with respect!" His face was red with rage. His shoulders heaved as he caught his breath from his outburst.

Connington glared at him. "Do not let your anger rule you,  _Your Grace._ You are a fool if you do. And you are an even greater fool if you do not think taking Jon Targaryen as a hostage will not aid us in our war. He can be used as leverage against any and all who still defy you." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Even against the queen."

Aegon stopped, frozen where he stood. He couldn't believe what Jon was saying.  _Rhaenys_ would need leverage to be his queen? To be with him, by his side, and to serve him faithfully? He whirled around, face contorted with rage. "Don't you  _ever_  say such a thing about my sister. She is the most loyal person I have on my side-"

"You've never met her before in your life! I was wrong, you aren't blinded by anger. You're blinded by greed! You want the kingdom, all of Westeros. You want your throne, your crown. You want Jon Targaryen dead. But most of all, you want your sister, the woman that you should have had but Jon Targaryen has." And once that was said, realization dawned on Connginton's face.

"By the gods," the older man whispered. "That's it, isn't it? You're angry, you're greedy, and you're jealous. Of your half-brother, if what they claim is true." Aegon bristled at that, but Connington was having none of it. His voice and face were pleading now. "Why, Aegon? Why are you jealous of him? Why has this driven you to such ends?"

Aegon looked calm for all of four seconds, before he picked up the nearest stool and threw it as far as he could in the confined tent. He was growling under his breath. "Because it was all supposed to be mine!

"My mother was raped and murdered, my father killed. My sister went missing, and I was forced to go into exile. I have spent all my life surviving, fighting for the day that I could claim what you said was mine. I have been cold, hungry, sick, thirsty, lonely. And what has Jon Targaryen been? A bastard, protected by Lord Stark and raised in the comforts of a castle.

"You have told me for so long that if you fight for something, it will be yours in the end. I have been fighting my whole life. Why does Jon Targaryen get it all before me? Why does he get to have the throne, and the people, and Rhaenys, when I've gone through so much. Why, Connington?" He should have felt embarrassed by the way his voice broke, by the way tears threatened to spill from his eyes. But there was no room left for that kind of thing.

He stared at his Hand, his mentor, his father in all but name and blood. He looked for answers, seeking the wisdom and guidance that Connington always had for him. He turned away, angry, when he saw that Connington had no answer for him.

* * *

**Jon POV**

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Daenerys asked him in concern. She stood before him, looking up with worry in her eyes. Jon took both of his aunt's hands in his, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"Don't worry, aunt." He smiled grimly, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. "It'll be over soon."

She sighed in defeat, knowing full well that nothing she could say or do would convince him to do otherwise. She would have to settle for warning him against doing anything stupid. "Just . . . be safe. Alright? Can you do that for me?"

He nodded reassuringly. "Daenerys, I will be fine. If worst comes to worst, call down your dragons." She nodded in understanding, though the fear was still present on her face.

Jon turned to face his Jaime and Robb, who were both waiting beside their horses, Jon's beside theirs. Approaching them, he could see the same emotions there. It had never truly occurred to him before just how much he was loved by those that served him. Robb had always been his brother, and always would be, no matter who Jon's father was. Jaime was a Lannister, yet had gone from being his enemy, to becoming one of his closest confidants. And Daenerys . . . well, the love he and Daenerys felt for each other was mostly in a sibling sort of way, though he suspected it could change. Although, it would be nothing like in the way he loved Rhaenys. No one could ever replace that love.

"Ready?" Jon asked his brother, attempting to lighten the mood. Robb gave him a brief nod, trying for a small smile. It failed, and he gave in to giving Jon a stern look.

"Are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, if we lose you-"

"Gods, Robb. Not you too!" Jon exclaimed in mock exasperation. Really, he was touched by how concerned his brother and all the others were for him, if it  _was_ a bit much. "I'll be fine. I've got you and Jaime with me. And Ghost."

Even as he said the name, the white direwolf appeared seemingly out of nowhere, which was surprising; it was hard to miss a direwolf in the south, even harder to miss one that was pure white. Still, the wolf had managed to disappear for some time. Jon didn't need to wonder where his faithful companion had been. They shared more than a home.

At night, he dreamed he was Ghost, wandering through the castle, scaring the living daylights out of any servant that found him. Their connection was one Jon had never felt with anyone before. Ghost was more than a pet, closer than a friend. Ghost was a part of him.

His direwolf pressed against him, the large beast coming above his waist and nearing his shoulders. He gripped Ghost's fur, if only to give himself comfort and to calm his nerves. He knew more than any of them what the consequences would be if he failed. They weighed heavily upon his shoulders, all the time.

As if sensing his internal anxiety, Robb laid a hand upon his shoulder. "We will succeed, brother. We will." He knew his brother believed these words as much as he did. So much was riding upon this battle, and the chances of winning were the same as that of losing. He did not doubt they had the potential, but if they actually  _would_ win remained to be seen.

Jon could only hope that the gods were looking upon them with favor.

He mounted his horse, and the others followed suite. He pushed his horse forward, grim determination written on his face.  _Whatever happens today Rhaenys,_ he thought, wishing there was some way she could hear him,  _know that I will always love you. Nothing - not death, not a throne - will ever change that. Watch over our child._

They rode out of Storm's End, an army following, to meet his half-brother. All the way, the sounds of "King Jon" and "The Black Dragon" were cried out across the land that would soon become a battlefield, reaching the ears of the waiting enemy.

* * *

**Connington POV**

He heard the enemy before he saw them. The bastard's men were screaming, shouting his name and something that sounded like "Black Dragon." He grew angry upon hearing that, thinking to himself that Jon Snow was by no means a dragon.  _The only dragon here is His Grace. And Aegon will be victorious._

Some squire (probably Duck's) came running up to him. "Lord Connington," the boy said, breathing heavily, "King Aegon demands your presence by his side." Connington sent him on his way, before picking up his sword from where he had set it down. He buckled it around his waist, gripping the pommel tightly as he imagined running Jon Snow through with it.

He strode through the army, the camp long packed up. Many men were on their feet now, readying themselves for fighting. They had been lounging around, laughing, joking, before they heard the cries. Of course, these men were the reserves. The rest of the men were with Aegon, in formation and awaiting the fight.

Reaching Aegon, he was caught up in how similar he appeared to his father. Their armor was different; Rhaegar's armor had been black, and Aegon's was silver. The three-headed dragon banner flapped in the wind that had begun to blow. Aegon stood beneath it, speaking with several of his captains. Strickland and Duck were there, and, much to Connington's surprise, so was Ashara.

She waited patiently for Aegon to finish addressing his men before stepping forth to speak with him. They exchanged a few words, and Connington could see tears on her face. Just as she was about to leave, she took his face in her hands and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. Connington was proud when the boy did not pull away. Most men would have pulled away if their mother had done such a thing. But Aegon was not most men. She left, and Connington strode forward to take her place.

Aegon smiled when he saw him. "Jon!" he called, arms open, welcoming. His smile disappeared however, when the wind changed directions and the cries from the nearing army reached them again. "The bastard has come."

"Aye, he has. Are the men ready?"

"Yes. I have already ordered the men to begin marching. They will meet Jon Snow's forces halfway." Connington nodded in approval. Aegon had learned well.

"I will be fighting, too." That had Connington's jaw dropping. Before he could begin to say no, to deny the boy that  _one_ thing, Aegon interrupted him. "Jon Snow is leading his own men out."

"So? The bastard is stupid," Connington growled.

"Maybe so. But if my men see that I would prefer to sit behind their lines, watching the battle, and were to look across the field and see the bastard fighting alongside his men, they might begin to doubt me. They might desert. And we cannot have that."

What the boy said was true. That didn't make it any less dangerous. "Then I am going to come with you. I don't care if you have forty Kingsguard" - he only had one - "I am going to see you through this."

Aegon nodded, not even arguing about the chance that Jon might die. He didn't know whether to be thankful or offended. Pushing those thoughts away, he followed the boy as Aegon led him and Duck and whoever else was with them to the front of the army.

* * *

**Robb POV**

He'd had a bad feeling about all this from the very start. It felt like something was eating at his nerves, and not in the way he normally felt during battle. This was different. Everything felt different. Something was going to happen. Something big and important and Robb had a bad feeling about it.

He rode beside Jon, his brother and now king. War had changed them both, he knew. Gone were the boys that had spared with wooden swords little more than a year ago. In their place stood two grown men, battle-weary and looking for peace. They'd had their share of blood and war. They had their own wives, Jon would have his child soon, and if Robb was lucky, he would have some of his own soon.

Despite the hateful things he had spit at his brother (Jon was his brother, maybe not by blood, but they were brothers and a long-dead Aegon Targaryen would not change that) when Jon had forced his marriage to Jeyne to be broken, he could only look upon the other man with love.

He could see now, could see that Jeyne would not have made such a good wife to begin with, no matter how much he loved her. But after what her family had done? She could not be in the same room with anyone loyal to Jon without being branded with accusatory glares. No, this was better. She was safe, would likely marry some other boy that could give her the love she deserved.

And besides, if Robb was being completely honest with himself, he rather liked Margaery. She was... unlike most girls he had met. She reminded him of Rhaenys, in some aspects. He could remember when he had been twelve and hiding his feelings for the Dornish princess. He had thought himself in love with her, and had been jealous of the constant attention she gave his brother. That stopped a year later when he realized they were not real.

Margaery was very real, and very much attracted to him. She gazed upon him with something akin to wonder, and (at least he thought) affection. She was a beautiful woman, and knew how to play the game the lords and kings loved so. Her grandmother had made certain of that. But they were always kind and courteous to each other, and she did not try to play any games with him.

Of course, now he feared that he would never get the chance to see her again. Their forces were roughly of the same number as Aegon's, and even if they had dragons on their sides... there was always the possibility. He could very well die this night. He had come to regret not spending every available moment he could with his new wife, and if he felt anything after death, he knew that it would be guilt at having left Margaery alone, without her husband.

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Robb turned his head to see his brother looking at him with a concerned gaze. Robb would have laughed if he were not overcome with the feeling that something so very  _bad_ was going to happen. It was only a few hours ago that he had comforted his brother from whatever nightmare had plagued his dreams. Jon had not cried like that since they were children.

"Brother," Jon asked calmly, hand squeezing Robb's shoulder, "are you well?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes, yes. Just..." He did not have to continue. His brother gave him a smile of understanding, his eyes warm and caring.

"I understand. I worry for what would happen to Rhaenys, and everyone else that I care about, if I were to die today." Robb did not mention that fact that they both very well knew Jon was prepared to die, if it meant saving those he loved.

"I wonder the same about Margaery. Will she be safe without me?" he asked aloud, and he hoped that the answer would be yes, even if she would miss him terribly.

Jon gave him his best reassuring smile, and said, "Rhaenys and the Dornish will make certain Margaery is taken care of, brother."

Robb could only hope he was right. His brother gave the command, and the army moved to battle with their enemy. Together, they began the fight.

* * *

**Jon POV**

He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Why had he thought that the first man to come forward, wearing Aegon's armor, charging at him, would be Aegon? The clues were there: the man was bigger than his supposed half-brother, what little hair could be seen was far from being the silver Targaryen color. And did he really think Aegon would just rush at him?

Yet that did not stop him from taking the bait and going for the man. Whoever this man was.

Robb had gotten separated from him within moments of them beginning the battle. Ser Jaime had been lost in the mass of men not long after. Even Ghost was gone, though he was sure his wolf was not far off. Ghost would not leave him.

This man fought well. He was stronger though, so Jon had to be faster. The man heaved a downward stroke, which might have cleaved him right down the middle if he hadn't spun away in time. His sword clashed with the other man's, the ring of steel meeting steel cutting through the air. Jon heaved deep breaths in, thinking that it was probably not such a good thing that he was out of breath so early in this dual.

"Bastard," the man spit at him.  _Yes,_ Jon thought to himself,  _most definitely not Aegon._ Besides the obvious, the man's voice was much too deep to be that of a boy of seventeen years.

"Impostor," he replied, hoping to make his opponent angry. It worked. With a growl of rage, the man attacked again. His swings and hits were all stronger, putting the most of his strength into each one. Jon dodged each of them, not trusting his sword to break if he tried to block them. He moved back so fast that he very nearly tripped over his own two feet. He caught himself before he could, and ducked under a swing aimed for his head.

"I will kill you, traitor," the man grunted, swinging again. His attacks were becoming wild, no longer holding any grace or skill. They were blunt, heavy attacks that could crush Jon if he made one wrong move.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Jon tried to explain, moving out of the way of another heavy blow. "There can be peace. My brother and I can come to an agreement, and end this pointless slaughter." He danced away from blow after blow, his life depending on the speed of his movements.

"No! You are not worthy of mercy, whoreson!" The man stopped his movements, lowering his sword to the ground. His chest visibly lifted with each breath he took in. He was tired, Jon could see. Perhaps this could be his chance.

"Please, there is no reason for this!" Slowly, sword raised and guard up, he approached his opponent. "There can be peace," he repeated. "There can and there will be. Please, let me live so I may speak to my brother." He stood before the other man now. The impostor only watched him, eyes sharp like a hawk. Jon hoped it would mean that he would listen.

But there was no making peace with this man, Jon realized too late. He was out for blood - Jon's blood - and he would do everything he could to have it. If Jon had seen that sooner, it wouldn't have come as a surprise when the man darted his leg out, sweeping Jon off his feet to land heavily on the ground.

This would be the moment of the kill, where the other man would plunge his sword into Jon's chest, his heart, and take his life from him.

It happened before he hit the ground.

One moment, the world was titling, the sky coming to be all that he could see. And then suddenly, he was back in the heat of battle. He walked on four legs now, instead of two, and his fur and snout were darkened with blood. He heard the other man's voice from where he stood. And like an arrow shot from its bow, he was off, racing to reach his companion.

There were bodies everywhere. Some lying on the ground, dead or dying. Many on their feet, fighting with other men. It was chaos, and the scent of blood and sweat, the sounds of steel and pain were overwhelming. But nothing hid his companion's scent from him, nor that of the man that threatened his life.

The man was leaning over his body, saying something to him that his ears soon picked up on. "-cannot allow you to live. Westeros must be Aegon's, I will not allow anyone to take what is his. Including his sister-wife." He raised the sword, readying for the killing blow.

That's when Jon leaped with every intention of ripping the man's throat out.

* * *

**Jaime POV**

He saw a flash of white in his peripheral, and knew without a second glance that it was Ghost. His king's direwolf was running away from where he had been ripping any that dared attack him to shreds.

Some part of his mind told him that he should follow. He was needed. Jaime was not one to ignore a gut instinct in the heat of battle, especially when it came to his duty as Kingsguard. Gripping his sword tightly, he began to follow Ghost into the swarm of men fighting one another.

He lacked the grace and mobility that wolf possessed, and so it took him some time more to reach his king's side. He'd had to constantly dodge one attack or another. At one point, some soldier had even dared to block his path, hoping to take him on and win. Jaime took care of him easily, although it was harder to follow where the wolf had gone.

Pushing his way around two men at a struggle, he found what it was that had had the wolf up and running for his master. Ghost was currently tearing out the throat of a man who no doubt had been intending to kill Jon. The king himself was sitting up on the floor, an incredulous look upon his face.

"King Jon!" he called out, hurrying over to the man's side. He stopped beside him, and knelt to help him up. "Your Grace, what happened?"

"I killed him," Jon said, his voice empty, his expression dazed.

"Yes, Your Grace, I can see that. What's the matter, who is he?" Jaime asked, concerned for Jon. His reaction to whoever that man's death had been was a strange one. It wasn't the first time he'd killed someone, so why was it affecting him?

Jon shook his head, like he was trying to clear his thoughts. "One moment, I was looking at him. He was staring down at me, raising his sword. He was going to kill me. And then- and then. . ." he trailed off.

"Yes?" Jaime pressed him. They were oblivious to the battle going on around them, and it seemed as though no one wished to attack them as of yet.  _Hopefully it stays that way,_ Jaime thought.  _My king appears to be completely lost and I won't be able to hold off many men._

"And then I was Ghost." Jon's gaze traveled around until it found the direwolf. Ghost, his white fur streaked red with blood, trotted over to his side and licked his hand. The wolf let out a whine, and seemed to be trying to get their attention.

Jaime stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "You were Ghost?"

"Yes. It has never happened so quickly, though, so  _naturally_. I wonder what it means."

"I don't think there's much time to ponder that, Your Grace. Your direwolf seems to want your attention." Immediately, Jon looked down at the wolf, brow furrowed in question.

"What is it, Ghost?" The direwolf nudged his body in the opposite direction of where Jaime had come from, another whine escaping. Jon seemed to understand whatever it was the wolf was trying to tell him. He straightened up, grabbed his sword from where it had fallen, and motioned for Jaime to follow him.

Confused, Jaime asked, "What's wrong, Your Grace?"

Jon paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes were determined, and hard with what Jaime thought was anger. "Ghost can sense when a pack-mate is in trouble. Robb is in danger."

* * *

**Daenerys POV**

Daenerys remained back, behind the walls of Storm's End. Jon had forbidden her from joining the battle, and she had had no disagreements with that. She had considered it strange that he would even have to make such a command; surely his time with her had shown him that she was not a woman that fought in battles. Now, she assumed he was used to giving that command to Rhaenys, which was why he had given it to her in the first place. It was habit, not thought.

The battle was not going as well as she would have liked. Even with against their superior forces, Aegon's army was putting up quite a fight. It was enough effort to have Daenerys watching worriedly, her hands clenched tightly on the parapets. She wished Rhaenys's shade was there to aid them, but of course, when they really needed him, the gods would see fit to have something else very important come up. He had left the morning Aegon's forces marched up to Storm's End.

It was not sight or hearing that alerted her to another's presence. More of a feeling that she was being watched. Turning her head slightly, Daenerys could see that the Red Woman, Lady Melisandre, was standing next to her. It irritated her that the Red Woman was taller than she, standing nearly a full head higher.

"The Lord of Light has blessed our King. He will succeed in this battle." Melisandre's voice was deep and full, quite the opposite of what Daenerys had been expecting of her.

"I do not care what the Lord of Light has done. Jon will win this, R'hllor's blessing or not," she snapped at the other woman. Lady Melisandre only chuckled, as if chastising a child for something they claimed to know.

Melisandre fully faced Daenerys now, face alight with amusement. "Without the Lord's blessing, what makes him so much more likely to win. All men are mortal, and all men must die. What is different about Jon Targaryen?"

Daenerys glared distrustfully at Melisandre. "Jon is different because he has an entire army to fight with him. He has Jaime Lannister, one of two members of his Kingsguard. He has his brother, Robb Stark, and Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind. He has his own direwolf, Ghost, an albino runt. He has myself, the Mother of Dragons, and my children, three living, breathing,  _deadly_  dragons. And what does Aegon have? Jon Connington?" She turned her attention back to the battle, content with ignoring the Red Woman for the rest of the time it took Jon to win.

She must have been paying a lot less attention to what was around her than she thought, or Melisandre was just good at being hidden, as the next time Dany looked to where she had been standing, Melisandre was gone. Dany felt herself visibly relax, breathing in a deep sigh of relief, now that the Red Woman had left.

Years after, she would wonder how exactly she had heard it above everything else, but not long after she had discovered Melisandre's disappearance, she heard the yell of "King Jon!" Everything else seemed to drop away in that moment, her only focus being on the source of that word. She scoured the battlefield, hoping for a glimpse of her nephew. She thought she saw a white cloak, Ser Jaime rushing to his king's side, but she couldn't be sure.

Her heart had become lodged into her throat, her breathing had become irregular. Jon couldn't be dead, he couldn't. It just wasn't possibly. She couldn't wrap her mind around such a reality. He wouldn't give up so easily, wouldn't leave his family and those he cared about in this world. He wouldn't leave Rhaenys and their unborn child alone.

The panic set it, as did the fear and the horror. Jon just couldn't be dead! Her children must have felt her emotions, must have felt their mother needed them. She hadn't even noticed that they were there until she heard the loud and terrifying roars from them. They flew above the battle, shadows larger than anything the men had likely ever seen.

The two different armies soon became apparent. Jon's army had grown used to the presence of the dragons, even if many still feared them. Aegon's army had never seen them before. Jon's men stood their ground, and Aegon's men began to retreat. They didn't run very far, just backed up some from the land surrounding Storm's End.

And that was all Daenerys needed. She didn't have to be on the battlefield to make a difference. She only needed her children.

At the top of her lungs, Daenerys screamed, " _Dracarys!_ " and suddenly, jets of fire were shot at the ground, and many of Aegon's men burned.

* * *

**Aegon POV**

Aegon realized that he was losing the moment the dragons appeared. He hadn't bothered to hope that the gods were being kind and had granted him the weapon to defeat his half-brother (he could see now that Jon Targaryen was indeed his brother). Bitterly, he thought,  _even the gods favor my brother._

Growling in frustration, he hacked at the man he was fighting. He itched to have another go at the Kingslayer. The rumor that Jaime Lannister was one of the best - if not  _the_ best - swordsmen in Westeros was in fact a truth. Aegon had not expected one capable of such a thing as Kingslaying to be very good. Most who killed defenseless, old men knew only how to stab with a blade, not how to fight with it.

Jaime Lannister had put up a good fight, challenging Aegon in a way neither Duck nor Connington had ever been able to do. He had challenged him so much, that for a few moments, Aegon had been afraid he would fall to the Kingslayer. Then the shout of "Jon!" and "Your Grace" had been heard over the sound of battle.

The Kingslayer had rushed off the moment he thought his precious king was in danger. Aegon had wanted to call him a coward, to laugh as Jaime Lannister ran from him. He couldn't, though, for he could only wish for such loyalty as that in his own men. He knew the Golden Company was loyal to him, despite being sellswords. But none would have rushed to his aid half as quickly as Jaime Lannister did to Jon Targaryen.

He had been split off from Duck, from Strickland, from Connington and all the others. He was alone now, no longer the enemy king, just a soldier hacking and slashing at anyone that came near him. He no longer cared if they were friend or foe, the battle was lost already.

It was as he pushed a man to the ground, his sword raised up high and ready to drop the killing blow, that he could see that the battle may be lost, but he could hurt Jon Targaryen in some way. He could still make him feel the pain and suffering Aegon had grown up with.

There, lying beneath him, Aegon's sword at his throat, was Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, Hand of the King, Young Wolf, and (until recently) half-brother to Jon Targaryen.

* * *

**Robb POV**

It took Robb a few minutes to see that his opponent, the man that now held his life in his hands, was laughing. It was even longer before he finally understood why. The man that held a sword against Robb's neck had silver hair, purple eyes, and wore armor more elegantly designed than any of the others. Aegon Targaryen was now in charge of if he lived or died.

He didn't need to look to hear the smile in Aegon's voice, the triumphant tone. "Well, look at this. The Young Wolf, defeated. This day may just turn out for the best."

"Fuck you!" Robb snarled, and a mailed fist connected with his jaw. He shook his head, dazed for a moment from the blow, tasting blood in his mouth from where he bit his tongue. He spat a mixture of blood and saliva at Aegon, which perhaps had not been the best of ideas.

Aegon's face darkened, and for a moment, Robb thought the other man would kill him in his anger. He closed his eyes, waiting for the end to come, silently praying to the gods.  _Forgive me, brother._  However, the expected attack never came. Opening his eyes once again, he could see that Aegon still had his sword poised for the final strike. He had yet to actually make the move, though.

"If you think it will be that easy," Aegon growled, eyes ablaze with anger, "for you to die, think again,  _Stark."_ He said the name as if it disgusted him, as if it were a thing of horror and repulsion. Robb had the urge to punch him again, but refrained from doing so. He needed to live through this, or at least try.

"You won't win this," he said. "You can't win this."

"And why can't I? I've an army. I'm a Targaryen. What can I not do that that bastard hasn't already!" Aegon's face was a mask of anger, but Robb could see through it. He could see the pain and the jealousy and the deep, deep hurt within. And he realized what this was all about.

"You can't win this. But," and at this, Aegon, whose gaze had been on the ground beside Robb's head, snapped up to his face, "you don't have to die. Maybe you can't win in the way you wanted. But maybe you can still have the throne."

Aegon narrowed his eyes. "And how exactly do you propose I get this throne? Do you plan to kill your cousin?"  _Brother,_ was Robb's immediate response to that. Instead, he bit his tongue to keep himself from pissing off the other man anymore. As for the plan, well, he could only think of one way it could possibly work.

"Jon will become the King in the North, and you the south." This proposition seemed to take Aegon aback. His eyes widened in surprise, eyebrows rising up, mouth agape. "You can have everything, from the Neck and beyond. But the North goes to my brother."

He hoped that Aegon would agree. Surely, it was more than the man could have hoped for. He would be defeated in this battle, that much they both knew. His only chance was for peace. And this way, he would get nearly everything he had wanted.

Aegon looked about ready to agree, until something caught his attention. He saw something, or someone, just behind Robb. His lips curled into a sneer and his eyes lost their moment of clarity in the rage.

"Bastard," he hissed, and Robb knew what had taken Aegon's attention. For Robb wasn't the only cousin who still thought of the other as a brother. Jon had come to save him, to fight his brother by blood, if only to give Robb the chance to escape. He had come, and with him, brought about the destruction of whatever shot at peace they had had.

* * *

**Aegon POV**

The bastard gestured to the man that had followed him to go to his cousin. Aegon could recognize Lannister looks anywhere, and he was certain this man was Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer. The man that had killed his grandfather.

He knew the stories. His grandfather was a mad man. But the law had to be obeyed, and when he took back his throne, Aegon would be sure to punish the Kingslayer for his crimes.

Beside them, a giant white wolf stood. A direwolf, Aegon was sure. He did not look forward to fighting such a beast, but he would if he must.

"Jaime," the bastard - his _brother_ , supposedly - said to the Kingslayer, "Take Robb and Ghost. Retreat to the castle, or join the battle. It is your choice. But this fight is between myself and Aegon."

"Of course, Your Grace." The Kingslayer's obedience angered him. Of course a Lannister would follow a usurper. Isn't that what they did when his father was killed, when Tywin Lannister decided to sack King's Landing, and kill his family?

Jaime Lannister took hold of Robb Stark's arm, and hauled the younger man to his feet. He all but dragged Stark away from them, with Stark throwing back a mix of looks, like regret, concern, and anger. The large wolf followed as reluctantly as Stark had.

"So," Aegon said, circling his opponent, "you're the one they all speak of. The Black Dragon. The last son of Rhaegar Targaryen, born of that whore, Lyanna Stark. Tell me, what must it be like, taking something that is not yours so that you can feel better about being the son of a whore?"

He could see Jon  _Targaryen_  clenching his jaw, his eyes betraying his anger. However, he did not attack, only mimicked Aegon's movements. A smart man, then. He knew what he was doing.  _Good. I like a challenge._

"You don't have to do this," said his brother. His guard stayed up, but his words showed that he wanted to be able to let it down. "The last man that fought me . . . I tried to tell him that. I knew that he must have been important to you. He wore armor that was like yours. He tried to kill me, but I killed him first." Inside, Aegon froze.  _A man that wore armor like . . . oh Duck. What have you done to yourself?_ Jon Targaryen continued to speak.

"I'm sorry. I tried to stop him, to take a step towards peace, but he. . ." Whatever Jon Targaryen wished to say, Aegon did not let him finish. His grief of Duck's death, his anger over his stolen throne, kingdom, sister, everything, took hold and he put all of it behind his attack.

He swung madly at his brother, who blocked it easily. Letting out a hoarse yell, he hit again. Jon Targaryen blocked it again, and like that, their dual had begun.

They traded blows, neither gaining the upper hand for a long time. Aegon mainly stayed on the offensive, raining down as many hits as he could in the hopes that he could wear down his brother's defense. But nothing seemed to do the trick. Jon Targaryen still held his own against him, sometimes swinging out at him and making Aegon quickly block his unexpected attacks. And yet, there was not a winner.

Until Jon Targaryen seemed to decide that now would be the best time to take the offensive.

Just as he had been blocking all of Aegon's blows, he suddenly was the one that was bringing them down upon his opponent. Aegon found himself desperately trying to protect himself against his brother's onslaught. He hadn't realized how exhausted he had become until he was no longer attacking his brother. And Jon Targaryen did not seem tired at all. If anything, he seemed to be holding back - only a little, but still.

That's when the realization hit Aegon.  _I'm going to lose. I can't win this, I can't,_ he thought to himself, just as his sword was suddenly gone from his hand and the point of his enemy's was now at his throat. Knowing his was defeated, he sunk to his knees.

_I'm going to lose._

* * *

**Jon POV**

Aegon looked at him wearily. On his knees, he no longer seemed to be the intimidating foe he was before. Now, he just appeared to be a tired boy, sick of war and the world and running. "What are you going to do with me? Take me prisoner?" There was no sarcasm in his voice, just resignation.

Jon shook his head. He offered his hand to his fallen brother. "No. You're my brother. Maybe we shared different mothers, maybe we never met before this, but you are my brother. I will not kill you for this."

Aegon stared at his outstretched hand in confusion. "I've fought against you, lay claim to the throne you want. I'm your enemy! And you offer to help me? Why? Why?" he asked in disbelief, eyes wide and begging for an answer.

"You should not be punished for trying to take what is rightfully yours. Being a king is no easy task, but if you wish, I would step down." He'd thought this over long and hard, and had come to a decision sometime before the fight had truly begun.

"You would do that?"

He gave a nod of assent. "I'm tired of war. The crown weighs heavier than you know. You were meant to be king, not me. I will not put up a fight. Too many are dead as it is, and another war will not bring what the realm needs. So yes, I will give you the throne and the crown if it means this battle ends and an alliance is made." His brother nodded eagerly. As Aegon reached for his hand, he drew it back a ways. "But none of those that declared for me will be punished. And you will let Rhaenys and Daenerys make their own choices. If they wish to remain married to me, you  _will_  allow it."

His brother opened his mouth to disagree, a hard look in his eye before pausing. For a moment, he appeared to be considering the choice Jon had given him. The he sighed - a long and sad sigh - before agreeing to it. "I would not force Rhaenys to do anything. And Daenerys should not be forced either."

They gave one another small, tight smiles, neither extremely comfortable with the other. Aegon accepted his hand readily, and Jon pulled up the other man. They stood together for a moment, both relieved that their conflict was finally over. Jon handed him his sword, and the other man sheathed it without any hesitation.

"It is good to be at peace. . . brother," Aegon said, although the word sounded strange coming from his mouth and he was hesitant to say it. Jon had grown too used to hearing it from the Stark children.

"It is. We should end the bat- Aegon!" he shouted. His brother gave him a look of puzzlement that was quickly followed by shock and horror as he took in the arrow that had emerged from his chest. Jon could only watch, frozen, as his newly found brother gave a grunt of surprise, and maybe pain, just before falling to his knees. As he began to fall back even more, Jon broke whatever spell that had held him in place and rushed forward. He caught Aegon, whose mouth was beginning to fill with blood. Jon looked up once to where the arrow had come from. He saw a face, and the lion of House Lannister, before returning his full attention to his brother (that face would be forever seared into his mind).

"Damn," Aegon managed to choke out, spitting some blood with it. "I thought . . . things were . . . finally . . . going right." He gave a strangled laugh, which only served to make him cough and sputter out more blood.

"Just hang on, brother. You'll - you'll be fine. We'll get you some help and you'll be back on your feet in no time." Jon was desperately rambling now. He knew it wasn't true, could see that his brother was dying. Aegon saw it too.

"Don't . . . lie to me . . . brother. We both . . . know that I . . . won't make it . . . much longer." He grasped at anything to pull Jon closer, and eventually settled for tugging on the other's hair. Jon ignored the pain that came with it.

"Promise me . . . you'll win this war," he gasped out. "Promise me . . . you'll take care . . . of our sister."

"I - I promise." There was no use in telling him he would live; his brother wanted to hear the truth from him. "I swear it by all gods. I will avenge you brother."

That seemed to make the other happy. He slackened his grip and let go. Jon caught his nearly limp hand and held it in his. "Shame . . . could have . . . been . . . King of the South . . . and you . . . North . . ." Jon fought back the urge to ask him what in Seven hells he meant. Did he mean for Jon to be King in the North? And he to be the King in the South? He wouldn't interrupt him now, not in his last moments. "Won't be . . . long now. I'll see . . . Mother and Father . . . again now. I'll tell . . . your mother . . . you are a . . . king now. And a . . . good one . . . at that."

Jon didn't bother to hide the tears that spilled from his eyes.

They found him like that, Jon Connington and Robb and all the others, cradling his brother's limp body. Robb watched in pity, and Connington howled in pain, as if he was the one with an arrow through the chest. He blindly ran forward, pushing anyone out of the way. He ripped Aegon's body from Jon's grasp, sobbing and placing kisses in the dead man's hair.

"My prince, my prince," Connington muttered softly, "my prince, you must get up. There is peace now, and you have to take your throne." When no reply was made, the man began sobbing uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Jon Connington's eyes lifted from Aegon's body to Jon's face. The hatred there reminded Jon oh so much of Lady Catelyn's stares, and realized he was more than familiar enough with the hating glances of others. It did nothing to stop his grief, got almost no reaction out of him. Except maybe surprise; he had not been expecting Connington to immediately blame him.

He had not been expecting Aegon to die like this, either.

"You," Connington hissed, pointing one clawed finger at Jon. "You did this. You killed our king. You murdered him. And now you go to take his kingdom."

Mercenary group the Golden Company may have been, but now they were Aegon's men. They saw what Connington made them, and maybe believed himself: a bastard usurper killing his trueborn brother for the throne.

There were mutters and shouts and wails of grief. And soon there were weapons being drawn and cursing being shouted. The battle had ended, but it was about to begin again. Connington was still shouting, blaming Jon for their king's death. Jon's own forces were readying their weapons, were preparing to defend  _their_  king. Robb watched Jon with something similar to worry, fear, and concern.  _If you do not say something now,_  Robb's eyes seemed to say,  _then many more will die._

Only, for once in his life when he needed it most, Jon could not find anything to say. And the situation was getting worse by the second.


	39. Sweet Lies

_It's wrong, it's all wrong,_ Rhaenys thought to herself as she paced the length of the nursery. _This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be. Were the gods lying to me? Or was it just a fantasy? Was I seeing what I wanted to see? No, no, I wouldn't wish to see either of them harmed. I wouldn't wish for anything like that to happen. So it had to be the gods. But why? Why would they just lie to me like this?_ She ran her hands through her hair, trying to find the answers to her questions.

Childbirth had been hard and painful, made only worse by the fact that Jon had only left just some days earlier. She had cried for him, had screamed his name with every push. She had needed him greatly then, had needed him to make her stronger and help her through it. But he wasn't there, and she not even Dalin had been there to give her comfort. Rhaenys told herself that she wouldn't be confined to bed for most of the days after her son had been born, deemed too sick to do much of anything, had Jon just been there.

It was a lie, and she knew it. But it was better than facing the reality that she might very well end up as sickly as her mother (she had to provide Jon with more heirs, a single son would not be enough to keep their line secure).

That had only been the beginning of her troubles. Having to remain in bed, to rest and heal, was not so bad. Oh, she wished to move around, to see to her duties and take care of things. Between Nymeria, Oberyn, and Ser Barristan, she was not needed for such things. What troubled her the most was the son she had birthed, the little boy that would one day be king of the Seven Kingdoms.

He was strong and healthy. He had a good set of lungs, if it were to be judged by his screams. He had wolf's blood, as she had thought. Like Arya, and Jon's mother. And that was where the similarities in Stark blood ended. She had dreamed of a boy with brown eyes and dark hair, a Stark in looks. What she brought into the world was a Targaryen, without a doubt.

Her son's hair was silver, not dark. His eyes were violet, not brown. He appeared more like Aegon, like Rhaegar, like every other Targaryen male in their long line than a Stark or Martell. This brought up a multitude of problems, the most worrisome to her being: what had the child in her dream meant?

She had yet to name her son, unsure if Jon would approve of naming this boy Eddard. She had chosen the name not just in honor of the man that had raised Jon, but also because he looked like a Stark. Eddard was a Stark name, so of course the child to be given that name would appear to be a Stark. But her son was a Targaryen in appearance, and she wasn't sure if Jon would like that.

Other problems would arise, too, with their child. Some lord, somewhere, would suggest that because of her child's looks, his true mother was Daenerys, and Rhaenys was just passing him off as her own because she could not conceive. Or they would say that she had lain with Aegon, and betrayed Jon. Their son's parentage would be put into question and they had no way of knowing what might happen because of it.

Rhaenys froze when she heard her son begin to cry. It was night out, the moon shone high. He must have had a nightmare, or something else must have woken him up. Either way, this wasn't his usual time to wake and he needed to be put back to sleep.

She approached his crib, taking care to be as quiet as she could. Loud noises would only make it worse. Gently, she picked him up from where he lay, twisting around unhappily. His cheeks were wet with tears and his face was red. She held him against her body, rocking slowly. One of the handmaidens had told her that her voice would comfort him, for it was a familiar sound, even this early. And she could remember her own mother singing to her, though that was mostly done by her father. But all songs seemed to be eluding her.

Her thoughts were coming up empty, and her son was beginning to get even fussier. She was about to give up and find some other way to put him back to sleep when she remembered something. Her mother had used to sing her songs when she could not sleep, and though she could not remember any of the actual songs, she began humming something that she hoped would soothe her child.

Her son began to quiet, enraptured by the voice of his mother. He was only whimpering, clutching at her clothes and hair tightly. She dried his eyes with her sleeve, and continued with whatever song she was humming.

He was almost completely asleep. His little eyelids were drooping, his breathing slowing down from the rapid beat he had taken before. He let out the occasional small whimper, although those were almost gone now. Rhaenys still sang as she laid him back in his crib, a hand rubbing his back lovingly.

She watched her child settle in, chest rising and falling with every little breath he took. She smiled fondly to herself, worries gone for the moment. There was no denying she loved her child, for how could she not? He was her flesh and blood, her own from her womb. He was her son, no matter his appearance. And he was her first child, the first one she had ever birthed in her lifetime. So how could she not love him?

Sighing, she decided to think over these matters later. For now, she needed rest. There was much she had to do in the morning besides these things. Jon would want to know his son had been born. She was thankful she hadn't told him of either of her dreams. It might have made things all the more painful for him to believe he would have a son that looked, not just like him, but like the father he had grown up with, only to discover his son took after the father he had never known. She had considered telling Jon about her disappointment, but now she decided against it. He already had enough pain and misery to contend with, no need to add more.

* * *

After learning of her brother's death, it wasn't Jon that reached the Rock first. It wasn't even their army. No, the first to arrive were several lords of the Vale, with guards and a banner holding the sigil of their House above the sigil of House Arryn.

She sat in the great hall, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the entourage. She wished that Dalin was beside her to advise her in these matters, but the shade had left. He said he was needed elsewhere, and may not be back for some time. There had been no way to argue with him; he had left nearly as soon as the words left his mouth. Without him, she had to settle for the council of Ser Barristan and what few lords remained to her. Not that they were bad, just that they were nowhere near as helpful as Dalin.

Her sole knight of the Kingsguard stood to the right of her seat, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Oberyn and Nymeria stood to the left of her, Oberyn watching their guests mistrustfully and Nymeria staring at them with interest and a sly look on her face. Her son was not with her, he was too young to be kept in meetings such as these. She had instead trusted his care to one of her aunt's handmaidens, a Dothraki girl named Irri.

They were announced, and the men from the Vale entered. Rhaenys had been expecting there to be some lords, after all, they wouldn't send anyone else to pledge alliance to their crown. But she had not expected them to be led by a man by the name of Petyr Baelish, a man Dalin had warned her not to trust. And the man that betrayed Ned Stark.

"Your Grace," the man said, bowing low, "I am greatly honored to be in your presence. Thank you for welcoming us into your hall." It took great effort not to give the order to have the man executed right then and there. Two things held her back: the first being that these men followed him, and he was obviously an important player in this game. The second was that, if she was to have him executed, she would let it be Jon or Robb who had that honor.

"We are greatly honored to be welcoming you, Lord Baelish. May I ask, what has taken the Vale so long to take a side in the war?" Her face was a mask, a pleasant smile plastered onto it. The Vale lords before her thought it genuine, for they relaxed slightly.

Lord Baelish gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry to say, Your Grace, that we have been unable to support the true king because of some matters over inheritance in the Vale."

"I had heard Jon Arryn died. I had also heard he had a son. Is the boy not fit to become Lord of the Vale?"

"Lord Robert is a boy of ten, Your Grace, and very sickly. Lady Arryn ruled, but she needed a Lord to take charge of the Eyrie until her son was of an age. I was the Lord of Harrenhal - appointed by Joffrey Baratheon, I'm sorry to say - when she married me," Baelish said, with a hint of regret. It was faked, she could tell that easily. He wasn't sorry, but he wasn't overly grateful to the Lannister bastard. That only served to confuse Rhaenys, because wouldn't he be happy that a king had given him - a man of low birth and nearly nothing to inherit - a castle such as Harrenhal?

Rhaenys regarded him with a questioning look and hidden suspicion. "And this did not allow you to support my husband because . . . ?" She trailed off, allowing him to answer for himself.

"Because some of the Vale lords did not accept me as their lord. They wished to keep my stepson away from his family, away from the 'poisonous influence I brought upon the Vale,' they said." He was clearly hiding his emotions now, for she could not tell what he felt about this. He must have realized she could read him, or had seen something in her that made him do this.

"I hope the matter is settled now," she said, wishing for him to get to the point of his visit. The less time she spent in this man's presence, the better.

"Indeed, it is, Your Grace. I am the undisputed Lord of the Vale, and I have come to pledge our twenty-thousand swords to you and your husband, Your Grace." He kneeled down before her, and his men followed suit.

"As the Lord of the Eyrie, I vow that the Vale will fight for the one true king, Jon Targaryen, in this war. I swear it by the Seven, we shall never betray you." His men repeated it, and Rhaenys could see that those who accompanied Lord Baelish were idiots, men pledged to serve him, men that did not think on their own.

 _Lies,_ she could not help but tell herself,  _they are telling me sweet lies._ If it had been anyone else that had warned her not to trust this man, she might have ignored them and allowed the chance to see where his loyalties would really lie. But it had been Dalin that warned her, and if the shade was suspicious of this man, so too must she.

* * *

That night, she feasted the Lord of the Vale and his men, proclaiming to all the lords present that they had a new ally in the war. There were cheers, toasts of victory, praises sung. None of them appeared to care about who Lord Baelish was, or what he had done in the past. It was only she and Oberyn and Nymeria that gave them any second thoughts.

As another bard stepped forward to begin singing to them, her uncle Oberyn leaned in closer to her. "I do not trust this man," was all he said. Rhaenys nodded in agreement.

"Did the stories of how he challenged Brandon Stark for the hand of Catelyn Tully reach Dorne?" she asked her uncle, never once taking her eyes off Lord Baelish. The man was eating and laughing along with some of the others.

"They did. No man does something like that unless he is foolish or in love. And Petyr Baelish is obviously not a fool."

"He does not strike me as a man to fall in love either, but I guess it is possible." Turning her head so she could look her uncle in the eye, she asked him, "Why do you think he is here now?"

Oberyn shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know. There are many reasons why. Jon is taking castle after castle, conquering the Seven Kingdoms faster than the first Aegon. He could have been fearful that the Vale was next, and if he did not swear to serve you, he would burn."

It seemed a bit unlikely to her. Baelish would be smart enough to escape that fate. No, he had to be there for some other reason. He had some ulterior motive, and Rhaenys got the distinct feeling that she needed to find out what it was.

The feast continued on long into the night, the men drinking and eating their fill. Rhaenys retired an hour into the feast, preferring to remain sober and to get some sleep. There was nothing of great importance tomorrow, but she would need to be fully awake and clear-headed if she were to perform her duties and remain prepared for anything to happen.

Besides, she would need to speak more with Lord Baelish in the morning.

* * *

Lord Baelish had left two weeks after arriving. There was no word from Jon, or Jaime, or Dalin even. The silence from those she cared about worried her immensely. Aegon was dead, and there was an army right outside Storm's End. If Jon had been killed . . .

Another feast was thrown for Baelish's departure. If anything, the men drank even more than they had before. If she were to guess, she would think it was because this could very well be the last good news they would have for some time.

Still, something seemed very wrong at the feast. Lord Baelish appeared more smug than usually, though she could tell he was trying his very best to hide it. It made no sense to her. Was he happy because he had managed to make a pact with them without any deaths or risks? Did he just wish to return to the Vale in peace? What was going through his mind?

She felt no sadness as she retired, no regret. It would be a relief to have Baelish gone. That man was trouble, and she did not appreciate having him near her or her son.

Whatever joy she had at Baelish's return to the Eyrie disappeared the moment she stepped foot into her chambers. Something was very, very wrong. Her son was normally awake at this time, and even if he wasn't, Irri should be watching over him.

"Irri?" she called. There was no answer. Barristan, who stood guard outside, asked her if anything was wrong. She did not give him a reply.

Slowly, she moved farther into the room. Only a small candle flickered on the desk in the corner. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. "Irri?" There was still no other voice, no movement to indicate the handmaiden's presence.

Rhaenys discovered why when she crossed to the other side of the room.

Laying on the floor, hidden by the bed, was Irri. The woman's eyes were wide open in fear, but her chest did not rise. She was dead.

"No," Rhaenys gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. There was only one thing this could mean. Rhaenys stumbled over to the crib that had been placed in the room when her son was born. It was empty.

"No. No, no, no. No!" She sobbed, falling to her knees. Ser Barristan rushed to her side, sword drawn. He took in the empty crib, the dead woman. He tried to murmur words of comfort to her, tried to calm her down. She didn't hear him.

 _My son. My son. My sweet, little Eddard. My son._ It was a mantra in her head, repeating over and over again. She didn't even realize she had been saying it aloud. She could only focus on the fact that her son was missing and Jon was not there to find their child.


	40. New Allies

"What will we do?" Robb asked. He received no answer. None of the others in the room had any idea, and Jon was to exhausted to come up with a solution. His dream, the battle, and Aegon's death had all left him feeling just a little more empty inside.

He missed Rhaenys, more than anything, and wished she was with him. She would have known what to say to make him feel better, and what to do about this whole damned problem. And he wanted to see their son. They'd gotten word a week ago that she'd given birth. That had been perhaps the only thing since the battle to bring a smile to his face.

He wished he'd had better news to give her than the fact that her brother -  _their_ brother - was now dead.

"Jon?" Robb's question was directed at him. Slowly, he turned, finding his cousin - brother - watching him intently. There was worry in his eyes, but also irritation, pity, melancholy. They all had that look in their eyes when they were around him, and he was sick of it.

"Yes?" he replied impatiently when when all Robb did was stare.

His brother blinked back surprise, then repeated his question. "I know that with everything that has happened, this is a stupid thing to ask, but are you alright?" Robb was right; it  _was_  a stupid question.

"What do you think?" he asked, his voice bitter and angry. "My brother died right before me, and I should have been able to prevent it if I'd just been paying attention. Another battle is about to begin, so soon after the last, and there is almost nothing I can do to stop it. And I am not home."

Unwilling to stay there, with their pity and sad looks, he stormed out of the council room. He'd hardly slept at all these past few days, the guilt eating at him. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aegon die again.

They'd barely liked each other, had been at war all but a minute before he'd died, had only just begun discussing peace, and yet his death haunted Jon. He wanted to hate Aegon for dying, for trying to take away everything he had, for surviving the Sack, but how could he? They were brothers, even if they could just tolerate the other.

He'd all but locked himself up in the council room, thinking over what he could have done differently, what he could have done to save Aegon. He would briefly think over the issue at the hand, the army that was right outside, but his thoughts would quickly return to Aegon. It was driving him mad.

Dalin was missing. Rhaenys was at Casterly Rock. Daenerys was avoiding him, or maybe he was avoiding her? And all Robb was doing was trying to put him back together, when most of his pieces were missing or gone.

So it surprised him when he entered his chambers and found his aunt sitting upon his bed, appearing to be waiting for him. Her hands were folded in her lap, her back was straight, and she was watching him intently.

When all he did was stare in shock, she sighed and said, "Are you going to come in or not?" Dumbly, he closed his chamber door and walked over to where she waited. He stood before her, unsure what she wanted, when she sighed again and took hold of his hand, pulling him down beside her on the bed. With her hands on his chest, she pushed him so he was lying back on the bed. Then she climbed into his lap, straddling him.

He missed Rhaenys, and her touch, and how she soothed him easily. But he was not so desperate as to sleep with Daenerys, who he had not even married yet. "I don't think-" he started, but she pressed her finger against his lips to shush him.

"I understand that you feel guilty," she said, looking him straight in the eye. Her expression showed her sincerity, and her sadness. "I feel Aegon's loss too, even if I didn't even meet him. But Jon, you are letting yourself go. And you cannot do this."

He began to grow angry. What did she know of his pain? "I-"

"You are our king. Our leader. If you lose yourself to this madness, who will lead us? Hmm? Rhaenys can't do it on her own, she's just barely given birth. And I can't do it on my own. Even if the two of us join together, we are not the ones who inspired the people to fight. You are." Her voice had risen as she spoke, and now she stopped. When she started again, her voice was softer.

"You lead us. And if you go down the road to madness, so will the rest of us. You're our hope, our guidance. We need you. So you need to pull yourself out of this pity you're feeling for yourself, and your guilt, and be a king." Taking his head between her hands, she pressed their foreheads together. "It's not your fault. There is nothing you could have done to save him. So you need to accept that fact, get up, and stop this war from continuing."

* * *

Jon had decided to take her advice. After she left, he laid there, staring up at the ceiling for some time. He knew she was right, there had been nothing he could do, but that didn't mean it was any easier trying to tell himself that. And she had successfully made him feel guilty mentioning Rhaenys. Of course he couldn't return to her, broken and defeated, for her to try to fix. It wasn't fair to her.

Jon Connington was upset, and he wanted revenge for Aegon. The man was about as unreasonable as Jon had been in his guilt. He wanted to blame Jon for it, because he hadn't seen the man that had killed Aegon, and he had wanted Aegon to be king. If they didn't stop him now, the man would try to kill them all. And he would be angry enough to not care about losses.

Pushing off the bed, Jon called for a servant and ordered a bath. He hadn't bathed in three days, and hadn't changed his clothes. He'd barely eaten, or spoken to anyone.

He cleaned himself, and dressed into clean clothes. He ate food someone had brought him, and then marched to the council room. It was empty now. Robb and the others had left at this point. He surveyed the map that was set out on the table. They could win, if it came to battle, but with more losses than he wanted. No, he would do everything he could to make peace with Connington. And that meant going to speak with the man.

Satisfied, he left the room and told the nearest guard to saddle his horse, and alert his lords that he intended to speak with Jon Connington. Perhaps it was unwise of him to leave just like this, with little to no warning to his men, and no guards, but he had set his mind to making peace. And that was what he was going to do.

* * *

"I'm coming with you." Jon turned from his horse, not surprised when he found Daenerys standing there, hands on her hips, wearing her Dothraki riding clothes. For some reason, he had suspected that Daenerys would try to come with him. And so he'd had his men saddle Silver too. Nodding her gestured to her horse. She wasn't surprised either.

Ghost, forever faithful, tried to follow him. He rested his hand in the wolf's fur, slowly petting him. "No, Ghost. You have to stay here. They will not see me unless I come alone." Looking back at Daenerys, he added, "Well, almost alone."

The direwolf did not seem happy, but backed off all the same. Ever since the battle, he and Ghost'd had a deeper connection than they had before. Warging, he was sure it was called. The wolf understood him just as Jon understood Ghost.

He pulled himself onto the horse, looking around for a moment. It felt a little unreal, but he was going to do this. Even though it could possibly mean dying. Frowning, he turned his gaze to Daenerys. "Are your dragons. . .?" he trailed off.

She knew what he was asking though. Smiling, she answered, "They will come if I call. Do not worry. And I assume that you let your men know last minute, and that they are probably trying to catch you before you leave?"

He grinned, and despite the grim circumstances, felt like a boy getting away with something he wasn't supposed to do once again. "They would only try to stop me. And too much rests on this."

"Well then, let us go before they do catch up." That said, she sent her horse galloping through the gates, and outside. Laughing, Jon followed, urging his horse to catch up to her.

They raced for a little while, laughing like they teenagers they had forgotten they were. Eventually though, they had to slow their horses down. They were too close to Aegon's forces, and if they came in, riding their horses as fast as they could, they would be killed within minutes.

When they began to enter the army's camp, they dismounted and continued on foot. The men around them watched, with mixed reactions. Some glared hatefully, others watched with bright eyes, and some were only curious as to what they would do. The soldiers were crowding around them, but they made a path to, hopefully, where Connington waited.

Finally, they reached a tent that appeared bigger than the others. Two men stepped forward, and took their horses from them. Another two came over and checked them over for weapons. Jon had left any blade or weapon he'd had at Storm's End, suspecting that this would happen. And indeed, he was wise to do so. Daenerys, he was glad to see, had made the same choice. Some of the men watched her with interest, but she had lived with the Dothraki. She was used to this sort of thing.

Connington walked slowly out of his tent, face expressionless, blank. He stared at them, looking them over. He narrowed his eyes at Daenerys, but said nothing about her or her attire, yet. Instead, he returned his attention to Jon. He opened his mouth, and said, "King Jon Targaryen."

"Lord Jon Connington," he returned with ease.

"Please, follow me, Your Grace," Connington told him, leading him into the tent. Daenerys followed behind Jon, silent. Jon was a little surprised he had been welcomed so easily, but expected the worst. He was not sure what would happen.

"Please, Lord Connington, you do not have to address me like that. I would much rather us be equals in this tent." He hoped that Connington wouldn't take it offensively.

Indeed, he didn't. He appeared confused though. "And what would you have me call you?"

"Snow," was his answer. "Jon Snow, for that is who I will always be at heart."

Connington raised an eyebrow. "Snow? I'm not sure that makes us equals."

"A former Hand's bastard and an exiled lord? I think that's as equal as we can hope to be." Thankfully, Connington did not appear offended. His lips tugged upwards in the beginnings of a smile.

"So what brings you to my army, Snow?" He sat down at a table, and gestured for Jon and Daenerys to do the same.

"I would like to propose peace, an alliance. The Lannisters are our enemy, and together can certainly defeat them."

"And why would I join with you?"

He had expected this to come about sooner or later. He hoped his face conveyed his sincerity when he said, "I did not kill Aegon. I know that I had every reason to, and it looked very much like I had, but I didn't. We were discussing peace, and the archer appeared out of nowhere. I wish I could have done something different, I do, but there was nothing that I could have done otherwise. Please, do not let this war between us carry on."

Connington stared down at the table for several minutes, contemplating. Jon prayed that he would agree. He did not wish for Daenerys to call down her dragons. Enough men had died in this war. He did want any more unnecessary deaths.

After what felt like hours, Connington looked up. "I raised him. He was given to me as a babe and I raised him to the man he was. I did not wish for him to go down a path like his father's. I would have instantly given up the fight, let you be king, if it meant Aegon could live. But now I suppose it doesn't really matter. Aegon is dead, and I would only be killing other men in continuing this war." He stopped, and did not speak for another minute.

"And now? What will you fight for?" Daenerys prompted, speaking for the first time in Connington's presence. The man gazed up at her, and smiled softly.

"The Lannisters did this. They betrayed the Mad King, forced Aegon into exile, and made the both of you and Rhaenys hide away in fear. I want them to pay." Nodding, he sat up straighter. "I will ally myself and my men with you. For Aegon. And for Rhaegar."


	41. Treachery That Has No End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm too tired to say anything except that the next update should be in a week and feedback is golden.

The march back to Casterly Rock was one in which the men were more at ease. There was no great battle they were marching to, there would be no deaths. They were simply returning to their temporary home. With the addition of Connington's men, their numbers were almost twice the size they were on the march to Storm's End.

Stannis and the Lady Melisandre had decided to remain at Storm's End. Though Melisandre had proclaimed Jon to be her Lord's Chosen, she informed him that she would remain at Storm's End until he needed her. And Jon had convinced Stannis, as he was the last trueborn Baratheon with only a daughter as his heir, to stay back and hold the Stormlands until he and his army were needed.

A portion of his men had stayed to begin fortifying and rebuilding the Stormlands, but for the most part, many were coming back with them. And the men were happy that the current problem had been solved.

At least, all except the King himself.

They hadn't been planning to return to the Rock for a few days, but two nights before, a raven had come from Casterly Rock. It was addressed simply as  _Jon,_ and not as  _King Jon Targaryen_ or  _Your Grace._  He knew it was from Rhaenys.

However, all she had written was:

_Jon,_

_Return to Casterly Rock. Please. Something has happened._

_Rhaenys._

Any letter from her asking him to return would have had him trying to prepare everything early. But this letter had Jon hurrying to get it all done and ready so they could march the next day. He had contemplated riding ahead, and almost had, but the combined power of Robb and Daenerys had convinced him to stay.

"It will do Rhaenys no good to find out her husband was killed or captured in his haste to get to her. Ride with the army, and return to her in once piece," was his aunt's final words.

It did nothing to help his worry, though. He wasn't sure what was wrong, what she meant when she said something had happened. He dreaded not knowing, though, and that alone had him hurrying to reach her.

_I'm coming, Rhaenys. I swear it. I am coming for you._

* * *

The men awaiting them at Casterly Rock were grim. Oberyn was the one to lead Jon inside, to Rhaenys. Jon wasn't sure he had ever seen the Red Viper seem so . . . defeated. His shoulders were slumped, face lined with worry, a weariness to his eyes.

"Oberyn," Jon said, reaching a hand out to the other man's shoulder. Oberyn slowed his walk, coming to a complete stop. He slowly turned to face Jon. "What has happened? Why did Rhaenys write to me in such a manner?"

But Oberyn was shaking his head even before Jon finished his questions. He said nothing, only shook off Jon's hand and continued to take him to where Rhaenys was. Where, hopefully, Jon would get some answers.

Ser Barristan Selmy stood guard outside the room. He did not appear to be in a much better state than Oberyn. Again, not a word was said. Barristan only opened the door a bit, allowing Jon entry. He nodded to both of them, and entered the chambers of his wife.

There was little light. That was his first observation. It was nearly the middle of the night, but Rhaenys was not in bed. The bed looked as though it hadn't been slept in for a long time. No, Rhaenys stood beside a cradle.

It struck Jon then, the realization that he had a son. He had never forgotten, nor had it not occurred to him. But it was real now. Rhaenys had given birth to a child, a son. Had named him Eddard, after Jon's own foster father.

He approached her carefully, uncertainly. No one had told him anything. He had no idea what could possibly be wrong with Rhaenys, or whatever the problem truly was. "Rhaenys-" he tried to say, but the moment he spoke, he was cut off.

"He took him." Her voice was hoarse misuse.  _Or screaming,_ his mind supplied. Jon shook his head in confusion. What could she possibly be talking about? Who took who? Was this why she had sent for him? He needed answers, because this not knowing was making him crazy. What was the problem? What had happened to her? To this place?

"Rhae-"

"Did you not hear?" Now she turned to face him. His eyes widened in shock. Her face was pale, cheeks sunken. Her eyes were lifeless, staring at him with no emotion. The clothes she wore were torn. Her hands were balled into fists, knuckles bruised. "He took him."

"Who?" he asked, reaching out to cup her cheek. She did not even seem to feel it. "Who took him? And who was taken?" His other hand he used to grab onto her own hand, entwining their fingers.

For a minute, she said nothing. There was no answer, not so much as a sigh. And then, suddenly, her dead eyes were filled with depression, with anger and fear, with tears. A sob escaped her lips, and she collapsed onto his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Let him hold her close, rub her back and make soothing noises. And finally, finally, she spoke.

"Our son. Lord Baelish came, and he took our son." Sobs racked her bodies, and she began to let loose loud cries and screams. "My son!" she wailed. "My son, he took our son. He took him! My Eddard, my little boy, my son. He's gone!"

Jon had frozen, unbelieving. No, no no no. They couldn't have taken his son. There was no word of a Lord Baelish coming to Casterly Rock, and no word of his son being taken. No ransom or blackmail. Nothing. Silence.

_Which can only mean Eddard is dead. You're son, your first child. You never held him, never saw his face or heard his laugh. He never knew who you were. And he could be dead._

"No," he said, trying to deny it. "No, he couldn't have. He couldn't have-"

"I came in here. After Lord Baelish had left, Jon. The girl that watched him, Irri, was dead. The cradle was empty. Our son is gone, taken." She buried her face in his neck, and her voice came out muffled when she said, "We will never see him again."

And as soon as she said it, Jon refused to believe that.  _No, I will not let my son be taken from me. Not ever. I will not allow it!_  He grabbed hold of both her shoulders, shaking her just a little when she did not listen to him.

"Rhaenys, Rhaenys, please." She quieted, staring up at him with a haunted gaze. "Our son will not die. He is not dead. I will make sure of it. I will march to wherever this Lord Baelish is, the army at my back, and we will get our son back. Eddard will be ours again."

He let go of her, allowing her to fall back against him. "Please," she whispered brokenly, "please bring him back. I cannot lose anyone else."

"I will get him back," he promised her, holding her against him, his arms wrapped around her protectively.  _Not another. No one else._

* * *

He'd left Rhaenys in her chambers, sleeping for the first in days. So he assumed. She'd made him swear that he would bring their son back, twice more, before she let him lay her down. Even he knew she was not in her right mind, but who could blame her? He almost certainly wasn't.

His vision was red with anger. His hands itched to draw his sword, to take revenge on the man that dared to steal his child away. He wished to burn the man, send him into every hell there was.

Petyr Baelish, she'd named him. Lord of Harrenhal, and now Lord of the Eyrie.  _He betrayed my father. He is a man that fights for no one but himself, and will do anything to get what it is he wants._

Robb and Daenerys must have heard the news as well. They were waiting for him just outside Jon's solar. Robb's being radiated fury, one that could rival Jon's own. Daenerys, though, showed a sadness that could only come from understanding. And pity.

And Jon understood how his aunt could feel such a thing about all of this. She'd known what it was like to lose a child, to have them taken from her. But her pity was not for the taking, and for more of the uncertainty. As much as Jon wished it wasn't so, for all he knew, Eddard could be dead. Lord Baelish could have killed him the moment he took the infant.

"I want the army ready to march as soon as possible," he commanded Robb. The other man nodded, and opened his mouth to say something. Probably along the lines of how sorry he was, and that they would do all they could to get his son back. Jon didn't wish to hear it. He waved his hand dismissively. Thankfully, his brother followed the command.

Daenerys remained.

"You know we will need my dragons if we are to take the Vale," she said conversationally. Jon's hands balled into fists, and he nodded his understanding. "Even then, Petyr Baelish may be too foolish to listen. Only a fool would stand on his own against three dragons, with neither a sword to slay them or a shield to protect them."

"Where is Dalin?" He growled the question. The shade had been missing for some time. While Jon wouldn't normally mind it, he was a little more than irritated for Dalin's disappearance.

Daenerys shook her head. "No one has. Not even Rhaenys. He's been gone for a while, I guess. I think it has probably been since we set out for Storm's End."

"What reason could he possibly have for abandoning us at a time like this?"

She rested a hand on his shoulder. "If Dalin has left for some reason or other, it has to be good. I barely know him, and yet I'm absolutely certain that he would never leave Rhaenys like this. Not unless he was truly gone. And it would take a lotto kill Dalin."

"I know."

"Good. Then stop thinking about wherever it is that Dalin has gone to, and focus on the situation at hand. We don't have Dalin, true, but we have three dragons and an army better than any the Vale could come up with. Concentrate on getting your son back. Then we can worry about the shade."


	42. A Madman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well yay, this turned out to be longer than I had planned. Hope you like this chapter >:)

The Eyrie towered before them, the very top reaching the skies. Dark clouds had gathered three days before, and a light snow had begun to fall that very morning. For once, the great army at their backs was silent, in awe of both the mountain they had reached, and the wrath of their lord.

Daenerys was surprised Jon had lasted this long without riding ahead to behead Petyr Baelish himself. But instead of the fiery rage most Targaryens were prone to, he only expelled a calm fury. In this moment, he was more his mother's son than his father's.

_Winter is coming for you, Baelish._

She and his other lords sat upon their horses a ways behind their king, awaiting his orders. Daenerys, however, feared that Jon would remain in his own head for a longer time. He had said barely a word to anyone on their journey, and had started to separate himself from the rest of them. If none of the others would break him of his stupor, then she would.

Nudging her horse, she placed herself at Jon's side. His eyes were blank, empty, as was his expression. He stared at the Eyrie, taking no notice of her presence beside him.

"It  _is_  a mighty fortress," she said, following his gaze up to the top. In her peripheral, she saw him startle and look to her, as though surprised by his presence. She did the same, noting how emptiness had been replaced by anger. She reached her hand out to touch his shoulder. "We will find your son. I promise. And you will have your revenge."

He said nothing, nodding his agreement. She could hear another horse approaching, and knew it would be Jaime Lannister. Jon had left Robb Stark and Ser Barristan with Rhaenys, hoping that they would help her recover from her depression, and knowing they would protect her with their lives.

"Your Grace, the men wish to know the course of action." The Kingslayer remained behind them, and the others were watching them in interest. Daenerys looked to Jon, an imploring look upon her face that conveyed that he needed to be the one to answer this, not her.

Some moments passed. Jaime Lannister was growing worried, it seemed, and Daenerys herself began to feel a form of panic. Seeing their king so weak, so defeated would lower the men's belief in him, in what they were doing him. They all wished to exact revenge and rescue their prince, but their king was their leader.

Just as Daenerys was about to turn around and give the orders herself, Jon spoke. "The men will surround the Gates of the Moon. Have a group of them begin the climb up the mountain. Let no one escape, but do not harm anyone that does not fight you."

"And what of you, Your Grace?" Ser Jaime asked, but from his tone, Dany guessed he already knew the answer. And she was sure she did, too.

Jon turned his attention to her. "Are your dragons large enough to ride?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Good. Then that is what I will do. They bowed to Aegon the Conqueror, and they will do the same for me."

* * *

The courtyard of the Eyrie was abandoned. A fine blanket of snow covered the ground, with no markings on it save for the ones the dragons had made. Daenerys dismounted from Drogon, and ran her hand comfortingly over his neck. Their breaths froze in the cold air, fogging before their faces. Beside her, Rhaegal landed, shaking clumps of snow from his back.

And finally, Viserion arrived. Jon rode on his back, and the cream dragon showed the same displeasure as his rider. When Dany made to approach, Viserion snapped, agitated by another's presence. Drogon snarled back, reminding his smaller brother of his place.

Jon held Longclaw in his hands, ready to remove Baelish's head from his shoulders. His eyes ran the entire area of the courtyard, body tensed and eyes narrowed. From the grey sky fell a few snowflakes, tiny white dots in the air. Some landed in Jon's hair, melting a moment later. If the situation were not so serious, Dany may have laughed.

"We'll have to search the entire castle for Baelish," she remarked. Jon did not turn in her direction, but he nodded. His eyes were fixed on the sky, and an expression of hopelessness graced his features. She reached for one of his hands, removing the grip on his sword and grasping it in hers. She gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I can't fail," he murmured.

"I know. And we'll find them. But we have to keep moving," she urged him. "I think the best option would be to search in the High Hall. Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal, keep guard." Her dragons growled, and she had no doubt that they understood.

They walked across the courtyard, their trail visible in the snow. Jon led her through and a door, and they entered the castle. The hall was made of stone, and several wooden doors were spaced along both sides. It was nearly as cold inside as it was outside.

 _There is hardly anyone here,_ she thought, and rightfully so. She could remember lessons she learned from her brother and others of what her home was like. She could remember that the people in the Eyrie could not remain on the mountain, less they wish to starve or freeze to death. The passage up and down became to dangerous. The people would have left already, what with the obvious signs of winter already apparent.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty halls. Jon seemed to hate it as much as she. They turned a corner, and were met with more doors. However, they could see that down one of the halls, light flickered. From the glow, she guessed it to be a large room. The High Hall of the Arryns, probably. They continued to walk cautiously along, having no certainty of whether they were right, and how many men would be awaiting them.

When they reached the corner, Jon sheathed Longclaw on his back. He took a deep breath, and took Dany's hand. They looked each other in the eye, then stepped out.

Two huge, wooden doors were opened. They entered the room, and before them was a nearly empty hall. However, it was not devoid of life. Sitting upon the weirwood throne, face twisted in amusement, was Petyr Baelish.

"Ah, King Jon. I had been wondering when you would appear. Come to collect something, have we?" His chin rested on his hand and one leg crossed the other. Two guards flanked his side. Both wore the sigil of House Arryn.

"Petyr Baelish." Jon spit the name, hatred lacing his voice. "I would prefer to speak with someone more reasonable than such a madman as you. Where is Lady Lysa? Where is the true heir to the Vale?"

"Lady Lysa? Lord Robert?" Baelish scratched his head, a mocking expression of confusion on his face. He repeated the names a few more times before a smile broke out on his face. "Oh yes, my dear wife and my sickly son. Lord Robert is being fostered by one of my most loyal lords. Lady Lysa, I am afraid to say, was pushed out of the Moon Door." He gestured to an opening in the floor.

Jon looked down at the Moon Door, and then up at Baelish. "You pushed her? Why? So you could rule the Vale without any interference?"

"Oh no, that wasn't it at all. My poor, dear wife was losing her mind. She tried to kill her beloved son, you see, and I had to act before she could. I meant to push her away from him, but she tripped and feel out the Moon Door. It was an accident. I have regretted that such a thing happened since the day she died, but I feel like she would have forgiven me if she had known she was going to harm poor Robert."

"You're a monster," Dany said in shock.

Baelish turned an eye upon her. "And what does that make you, Mother of Dragons? You're creatures would burn the whole of Westeros to the ground, and yet you still call them your children."

Jon pulled his sword from its sheath, coming to a defensive stance. "You murdered Eddard Stark. You are the cause of this war. You killed Lady Arryn. You took my son and heir. As the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, I sentence you, Petyr Baelish, to die."

And Baelish laughed. He tipped his head back, and laughed. The sound echoed in the hall, creating an eerie feeling about them. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he said, "Lord Snow, where is your proof that you are truly the rightful king? Am I to trust you for your word?" He nodded to both of his guards, and they stepped back. "As you seem adamant, I will abide by your wishes. I do, however, demand a trial by combat. There is no evidence that what you claim is true. We shall allow the gods to decide. What do you say?"

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I? If I refuse, there is no guarantee that I will be able to find you again. Your guards will attack, and you can escape." A moment passed before Jon answered. "Very well. I accept your request for a trial by combat. Come face me, Baelish."

"I don't think I will. I name Ser Lyn Corbay as my champion." Out of nowhere, a man removed himself from the shadows and charged Jon. Caught off guard, he barely had enough time to raise his sword before the other man swung at him. Dany backed off, worried about Jon but aware that getting close would only worsen Jon's chances.

Her nephew ducked and dodged Ser Lyn's blows, deflecting them with his own sword. Steel met steel, ringing in the complete silence. The only sounds came from those two men.

Dany lifted her eyes up for a moment to watch Baelish. His features were confident, his demeanor and his very air. But his eyes spoke a different story. Dany could see just the slightest hint of concern in there, of fear. Baelish wanted to believe that Lyn Corbay would win, but even he was unsure. Many sang of Jon's skill in battle, of his abilities in a fight. But did any of them really know what Jon was capable of? Baelish had never seen Jon fight, so he could not know for sure. Baelish would just have to hope that Lyn Corbay proved to be better skilled than Jon.

The fight continued, and for the most part, they appeared to be evenly matched. Neither made any progress or head way, just hits back and forth, back and forth. Both Dany and Baelish were still tense, even if Baelish was better at hiding it. She wrung her hands, twisting them and wishing there was something she could do.

For one heart stopping moment, Jon lost his footing. He had been leading Ser Lyn back, meeting his thrusts and blows, when Jon slipped or tripped or something, and he was suddenly unsteady on his feet. Dany's hands flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips. In the corner of her vision, she could see a smile break out on Baelish's face.

As Lyn Corbay made to shove his sword through Jon's body and impale him, Jon's hand snapped out and his fingers coiled tightly around Ser Lyn's wrist. He yanked himself up, throwing Corbay off balance. With one hand holding onto Lyn Corbay's arm, and the other gripping his sword, Jon thrust upward. Corbay let out a gasp of pain as Longclaw went into his stomach, through his lungs, and out his back. The sword's tip was painted red with blood.

Withdrawing his sword, Jon wiped the blade on his sleeve, and left the dying Lyn Corbay. He walked around the Moon Door, beginning to approach Baelish. Petryr Baelish was frozen with shock, and his guards stood ready to attack Jon, but did not move. Their swords were pointed at Jon, ready for use. They were still, though.

Slowly, Jon came closer. "Put down your weapons," he said in a commanding voice. The two men exchanged glances, before setting their swords down on the ground. They moved aside so that Jon could reach Baelish.

Just as his hand grazed Baelish's arm, the man let out a loud, harsh laugh. And another. And another, until he was laughing hysterically, and Daenerys wasn't sure what had happened. Had the man finally broken?

Jon reared back, just as surprised by the man's reaction as Daenerys and the other two men in the room. Eventually, the laughter died down, until there was silence once again. Taking a moment to compose himself, Jon then reached out to do the same as he had started to do. Grabbing hold Baelish's arm, he pulled the man off the weirwood throne, forcing him to stand.

"Where is my son?" Jon asked in a deadly calm voice. He received no answer. He waited a moment more, before he took hold of Baelish's collar, pulled the man so their faces were mere inches apart, and yelled, "Where is my son?"

Baelish grinned, but gave no answer. Jon threw him to the floor, growling like a wolf as he did. Daenerys watched him fall, and moved her gaze up to Jon. He was in rage, but he was also scared.

"Your Grace?" a voice asked carefully. Jon wiped around to stare at the guard who had spoken. His eyes were desperate as he looked over the man. "Your Grace, I believe Baelish brought the child to his and Lady Arryn's rooms." The man had barely finished before Jon had turned in the direction the man was pointing, and sprinting out of the hall. Dany expressed her gratitude, and followed Jon.

She walked through the halls, admiring the castle, as she had not had a chance to do so before. It was a beautiful place, if a little lifeless. But that would be reconciled once winter had come and gone. After, the people would return and it would be more than a few empty halls.

As she reached the doors to Lady Arryn's chambers, she realized that something was horribly wrong. There was no sound coming from the chambers, except for Jon's footsteps as he slowly left them. He looked lost, more lost than she'd ever seen him. And defeated.

He collapsed outside the doors. He stared at the ground for a minute before burying his head in his hands. Dany hurried to approach and saw that his shoulders were shaking. "Jon, Jon," she said, trying to get his attention, to get an explanation. "Jon, what's wrong? What is it?"

He did nothing, simply lifted a hand and pointed to the chambers. "What is it, Jon? Is Eddard not in there? Is this the wrong room? What is it?" No reply, no answer. She straightened up, rubbing his shoulder gently before taking a deep breath and walking into the room.

At first look, it was a rather bland and normal lady's chamber. There was a bed in the center of the room, made and untouched for a while. There was a dresser for dresses and other clothes. A table, cleared, and an empty desk. A window looked out over the Vale, the curtains appearing to have been pushed violently aside. Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing to suggest that there no hope.

And then Daenerys turned around.

The crib was hidden, so she could not have seen it when she first entered. There was no movement, no noise. Daenerys took several tentative steps forward, stopping only just before the inside of it would become clear. A horrible feeling of dread flared within her. For a moment, she considered not looking, searching other rooms instead until she had seen every room and knew this was the only one the baby could be in. But she didn't, and took the last few steps forward.

She bit back a cry, could feel the tears trying to spill from her eyes. It felt like she was reliving a memory, and the same emotions threatened to overtake her. Inside the crib was a still form. Eddard's blank, dead eyes stared up at him. His mouth was open in a cry, but his face was relaxed. A pillow was just beside his head, and she had no doubts of how this terrible thing had occurred.

Numbly, she walked out of the chambers. Jon had not moved from where he had fallen, and his shoulders still shook with silent sobs. Daenerys lowered herself to the ground beside him. She wrapped her arms around his form, holding him close against her. "I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry."


	43. Answers

Jaime sent the guards away with a look. The two men, seeing the fearsome and rather frightening expression on his face, had little issue with leaving their position. When he could no longer hear their footsteps on the stones, he unlocked the cell door.

Stepping inside, his breath was momentarily stolen upon sight of the Sky cell. The edge of the cell was nearly hidden in the early dawn light, though the wind could not let him forget it was there. The sound seemed deafening in its greatness; its strength had his hair whipping his face, and his cloak snapping back against his armor.

His eyes roamed the area and found his target huddled against the far corner. Baelish had attempted to shield himself from the ever present wind. Jaime would have laughed had his chest not been filled with fury.

He stomped over to the sleeping man, pulling his sword from its sheath and keeping it pointed down by his side. When he was in his space, he fisted one hand in Baelish's tunic and yanked him to his feet.

Baelish woke immediately, features overcome with fear in sight of the Kingslayer. Jaime raised his sword, placing the blade alongside Baelish's neck.

"King Jon may believe you're responsible, and Princess Daenerys may encourage his belief, but I know you, Baelish." He spat the name as though it was most disgusting thing to have ever come out of his mouth. _A close second,_ he thought, reminded of some of the things he had been ordered to do under Aerys's rule.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Ser Jaime," Baelish said, playing an attitude of bravado that both knew was a lie.

He shifted their bodies closer together, the skin of Baelish's neck bleeding red where Jaime's blade nicked it. It was a shallow wound, nothing dangerous to the man's health; nothing that any guard or lord would question when he was brought to trial.

"You would not have thrown away such a powerful bargaining piece as Prince Eddard. You are mad; no other man would take pleasure from forcing the realm into chaos. But you are also intelligent. You could never have gotten this far without such a trait." He had to shout each word to make himself heard. But even as he raised his voice, Baelish's face showed no sign of understanding.

Jaime worried that Baelish had not heard him, when the man's eyes narrowed. "And why should I provide you with a name? You have nothing to give me; the King will not let a crime such as this go. Even if he wished to be merciful, the cries of his sister-wife," he said with a sneer that Jaime longed to punch off, "would call for my head. Or she would do it herself. You have nothing to bargain with, _Kingslayer._ "

It was the name that finally threw Jaime's self control away. "You're right." The sudden and deadly calm with which he agreed had Baelish's eyes widening in confusion.

With a great heave, Jaime threw Baelish across the cell, towards the other wall. He was careful to avoid the edge, knowing that he could be forgiven for anything he did, so long as Baelish lived to see justice carried out.

Baelish had fallen face first in the other corner, and with a groan begun to push himself up. Jaime drove him down again with a knee to his back. Using his body weight, he kept Baelish pinned to the ground while he stretched the man's right arm out across the stone. His left hand kept the man's wrist in place, and his right balanced his sword above it.

"Don't underestimate me, Baelish. King Jon wants you alive. But he never told me that I had to keep you unharmed."

Beneath him, Baelish had begun to panic. He squirmed and tried to throw Jaime off, but it was no use. Jaime had the muscle and weight that the other man lacked; all attempts were for not. "Y-you can't. He will n-never-"

Jaime leaned down to put his mouth closer to Baelish's ear. "I killed his grandfather, the Princess Daenerys's father. I still stand. The suffering of one more madman will make no difference to them. I'd imagine Princess Daenerys would be happy with such an outcome. She is tired of men the likes of you."

"You wouldn't dare-"

"I gave you a chance, Baelish. Remember that later, when you're going to miss this hand."

He pulled back enough to give himself more room, and swung his sword down.

It was not a clean cut, as was expected. Baelish's hand had not been severed all the way, so Jaime had to pull back again to drop the blade down once more. The hand finally separated from the wrist; Jaime moved himself away so as not to be hit by any of the other man's flailing limbs. His cries of pain were almost completely lost in the overpowering wind, more so as Jaime backed just a bit more away.

This act disgusted him. While he had done worse in his years of life, Jaime had never been pleased with seeing men suffer when they could just as easily be put to the sword. He did not particularly enjoy watching Baelish writhe in agony, but knew that it was a necessary evil. They needed answers, and Jaime feared that if he had not taken this opportunity, those responsible for this crime would never be found.

When Jaime feared he would pass out from the shock (or blood loss), he returned to Baelish's space. He flipped him over, onto his back, and brought the flat side of his reddened blade onto Baelish's other wrist.

He leaned down into his face and said, "I will not ask again. Give me an answer, or you will lose another hand, and maybe an eye."

Jaime was forced to lower himself even closer to Baelish's lips to hear. Amidst his sobbing, Jaime heard him say, "Your family. They sent… an assassin. I didn't… know."

Satisfied with his work, Jaime grunted something resembling appreciation, and left the cell. The guards that had been sent away waited a few doors down, watching him carefully as he emerged.

"One of you, fetch a healer. Make sure the filth doesn't bleed to death. King Jon wouldn't be very happy."

They hurried to see to his request. He left them alone to deal with the aftermath; Seven knew he would likely have consequences of his own to face.

 

* * *

 

"You cut off his hand."

Jon sounded more… amused than Daenerys would have expected. He had shut himself off from everyone but herself and Jaime Lannister since they had arrived. The few times she had managed to get him to speak, she had received monosyllable answers.

To hear him speak more than one word, and see his reaction given the circumstances, brought a smile to her face. She was glad he had at least managed to find some satisfaction with their current problem.

"Yes, Your Grace." Jaime stood straight and tall, his head held high in something resembling pride. He would accept whatever punishment Jon saw fit to give him.

"Well, he's not dead," she said. "Which _is_ the order you gave."

"I know," her nephew replied. He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned. "I'm not sure what to do with this situation. Ser Jaime, as you pointed out, has not disobeyed my orders, so I don't have much reason to punish him."

"And everyone who serves under you believes wholeheartedly that Baelish deserved it," she added. Yet Jon was still troubled, she could see.

Daenerys rose from her seat and approached her nephew. As he thought aloud he had walked away from the both of them. Gently, she embraced him from behind, hooked her chin over his shoulder. "The only reason anyone has to be angry is that he didn't suffer more. One hand is… nothing, compared to a child."

"Your Grace, if I may," Ser Jaime began, regaining their attention. The two Targaryens turned around to face him, and he met their gazes respectfully.

"I went to Baelish's cell for answers. Prince Eddard's death had bothered me greatly, and not just because he had been killed. Rather, the way he had been killed. And why."

Daenerys interrupted the knight's story. "Do you not believe Petyr Baelish is responsible for Prince Eddard's death?"

"I do not, Your Grace. Baelish could have been as mad as your father, Princess Daenerys, but he is easily more intelligent. I felt that killing the prince was a foolish mistake Baelish was very unlikely to make. And after I cut his hand off, he was more than willing to provide me with a name." He paused, hesitation written clearly in the way he spoke and moved. He had lowered his eyes in what Daenerys realized was shame.

"Who was it?" It was Jon that asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. He appeared to be on the verge of crying, and Daenerys tightened her hold on him.

"Baelish has told me that it was… a Lannister assassin that murdered your son." Ser Jaime flinched when Jon pulled out of her grasp, one hand rising to grip at his hair. She thought she saw his lips quiver, and a tear roll down his cheek, but Daenerys could not be sure.

Instead of having her attempts at comfort be pushed away, Daenerys spoke to Ser Jaime again. "Was Baelish working with the Lannisters? Is that how they knew to come here?"

"Yes. He would have been playing my… the Lannisters, as much as he had Lord Stark. I believe he told them when he captured Prince Eddard, but did not expect them to turn on him and have the prince killed."

They both ignored the crash from the other side of the room. No doubt Jon had decided to take out his emotions on the furniture nearby. Continuing, Jaime said, "They would have wanted us to turn on Baelish, take him out of the war. And they would have hoped that the death of our Prince would cripple our monarchs, and that our army would begin to fall apart."

"They've come very close to accomplishing their goal," Daenerys remarked dryly. "We should return to Casterly Rock. Combine our forces and strike at the heart of their power."

"King's Landing." Jaime's statement was as much fact as it was agreement. "If we take the Iron Throne – with our army and the rest of the realm behind us – any remaining rebellion will be crushed."

"Yes. We'll call in all our armies; have them begin their march to King's Landing. We'll take our own force here and relocate to Casterly Rock, to reunite with the rest of our commanders. And… Rhaenys will need to know." This she directed at Jon, who had finally calmed down enough to be addressed.

His shoulders rose and fall with his great, heaving breaths. Still, she watched him nod his head and begin to straighten his posture. "Yes. Yes, of course, Rhaenys will…will need to know."

Daenerys felt pity for her unfortunate nephew. Rhaenys would handle the news best from her husband. Jon would simply have to suffer the pain of their son's death twice over.

 

* * *

 

The sight of the approaching army should have filled Rhaenys with joy, to know that her husband had been successful and was alive. But all she could feel was dread.

A cold hand on her shoulder barely registered in the dark confines of her own thoughts, and only when Dalin shook her did she focus on the present.

"Yes?" she asked, devoid of any emotion.

"My Queen, your husband will be arriving shortly. You should be there to greet him. For that you will need to get ready."

"If my husband wants to see me," she told the shade, "then he can come to our chambers and see me. I do not wish to leave."

"Rhaenys, please."

"No!"

She turned on her friend, her guardian, threw her fists at him in her anger, knowing that it would cause him no harm but wanting the satisfaction of having her hand hit something. As she punched his chest, she screamed her rage out through gritted teeth.

"You left us!" He did not stop her attacks, merely stood still to accept the blows. "You left us when we needed you and now my son is gone! You swore you would protect us, but you did not protect us when it mattered!"

Finally he caught her hands, first the left wrist, then the right. He used them as leverage to pull her against him, brought his arms around her to calm her down. Dalin pressed his face against her head, held her against him like he used to when she was a little girl and was still plagued by nightmares from the night that he saved her.

"It is alright, my dear Rhaenys, it is alright." He continued to murmur small, meaningless things like that until she had stopped fighting him. "It is alright," he said, kissing her temple.

"No it isn't," she replied in a desolate tone.

"Yes it is. Everything will be alright, Rhaenys, you will just need to open your eyes and see it." She caved in to his comforting gestures, accepting his embrace and wrapping her own arms around his waist. "You survived the death of your mother and father and brother. You will survive the death of your son."

"I am not ready to let him go," she told him. Her voice was muffled from where she pressed her face against his collarbone; he heard her all the same.

"It will be alright, I swear it. Never forget him, like you have never forgotten the others. _But let him go._ He was not the child you dreamed of, Rhaenys."

She did not even ask how he knew of her dream, didn't wonder how he could know all this. She simply told him, "It is not fair. I had only just gotten him. He had only just been born."

"And the gods still called for his life. You know I would have saved him if I had known. That I did not merely proves that it was unavoidable." A part of her wanted to rage again at his words, but she knew well enough that it was pointless. If Dalin said that her son had been destined to die before he had a chance to live, then that was what she must accept; to do otherwise would risk madness.

They remained in their embrace until someone knocked upon the door to inform her that her husband had returned and was asking for her presence. She and Dalin stepped away, although Dalin kept his hands on her shoulders, pressed his forehead to her own.

"Let it go, Rhaenys," he said in parting, backing away from and disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.

Rhaenys changed out of her night clothes, and twisted her hair back, away from her face. She had the tears on her face wiped away, to hide the evidence of her misery from her husband. When she deemed herself to look well enough to see her husband, she exited her chambers.

Her guards awaited her, Ser Barristan in the lead. "Your Grace," he said, with a bow of his head.

"Ser Barristan." She looked around, wondering if perhaps Jon was with them. A quick glance showed her that he was not. "Would you escort me to my husband, Ser?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

Surprisingly, she was led to her husband's solar. Ser Jaime alone stood guard outside the room. Upon their arrival, he greeted her with a warm, "Queen Rhaenys, your husband is waiting inside."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime."

She dismissed all her company, save for the two Kingsguard. She left them to continue guarding Jon's solar, as unnecessary as she felt it was; she doubted there would be any threat at the moment. No one would be foolish enough to attack or interrupt them in their grieving. Even if they were, she knew Dalin would handle it.

Rhaenys opened the door enough for her to slip inside then closed it behind her. Only one or two candles were lit, and curtains had been drawn over the windows. It was dark; thankfully, Rhaenys had spent enough time in darkness that her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light.

She found her husband sitting in one of the chairs, bent over. His elbows rested on his thighs, and his head was held in his hands. He didn't move, nor acknowledge her entry. As still as a statue, the only sign that he was even alive being the small rise of his chest when he brought air into his lungs.

"Jon," she breathed, slowly crossing over to where he sat. He hardly moved, a few of his muscles twitching in the instinctive need to locate the source of the sound.

The nearer she came, the tenser he got, until she was worried he would hurt himself. She moved so that she stood in front of him, looking down at where he was curled in on himself. Rhaenys kneeled before him, and raised a hand to place on his chest.

She eyed him warily, afraid for how her husband would react. When she was met yet again with nothing, she tried to get him to speak. "Jon-"

"I failed."

His brief, harsh statement gave her pause. Rhaenys attempted to sound as soothing as possible when she asked him, "What do you mean?"

He finally lifted his head from his hands, and she was shown that his eyes were red and puffy, that tear tracks led down his cheeks to his chin. His hair was messy from how much he had run his hands through it, gripped it in his fists. He was still crying.

"I failed," he repeated, bottom lip wobbling in his misery. "I promised you. I would bring back our son."

"Jon, please. Don't do this to yourself." She tried to cup his face, hold it in her hands, but he pushed her touch away.

"Our son is dead!" He yelled it in her face, yet she remained completely unaffected by this. This reaction, she felt, was better than nothing at all.

Rhaenys nodded her head in kind understanding. "Yes, my love. Our little Eddard is dead."

"I couldn't save him in time. Couldn't save him from Baelish, and the Lannisters…" Deep down inside, a terrible rage began to burn. Of course the Lannisters had to once again take all that she held dear from her. Was it not enough that they had taken her mother, her brother? Now they had to take her son, and – as she began to fear – her husband, too?

"Shh, my love," she whispered, reaching again for his face and succeeding this time. He didn't fight her off, just accepted her kind hands in defeat. "It is not your fault."

"But if I had just-"

"No." She held his face before hers, looked him right in the eye. "It is not your fault." He nodded, if only to end the brief conflict between them.

She pulled his head against her chest, felt him slide his arms under her legs, pull her into his lap. He grasped at her waist, holding her tightly against him. She allowed this, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head and cheeks and lips, while he wept for their son.

"It is alright," she told him as calmly as she could. "They will pay for what they have done to us, I promise you Jon. Our son will be avenged, when we march into King's Landing and take their heads, their throne."

"We will?" he asked, sounding once again like the boy that had lost the man he had called Father so long ago.

She smiled down at him, kissed him deeply on the mouth before she replied. "We will, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been more than a year. I didn't mean for that to happen, but here we are. We are very close to the end, with only ten chapters left to go I believe. Whether or not I update next week depends on how much I can get done on future chapters.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's been following this thing so far, I love you all. And comments are greatly appreciated.


	44. The Taking of King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp I've been feeling sad and terrible all day so y'all are getting a chapter. Before we begin:
> 
> CHAPTER WARNING PLEASE PAY ATTENTION: I'm a horrible human being so I wrote smut. If this makes you uncomfortable, you wish to skip it, etc, there are two sections. Both of them are marked with ***** to signify the beginning and the end. The first section is the one that I am most concerned with, because it is much longer and in greater detail. The second section is only a couple sentences - none of which are terribly explicit - but I marked it anyway so no one would be caught off guard. (P.S. I have updated the rating of the story to Explicit, please keep this in mind)
> 
> That having been said, enjoy and please leave a comment on the way out the door.

The sight of the Iron Throne for the first time in nearly two decades elicited strange feelings inside Rhaenys. It was smaller than she remembered, which she attributed to her age, but no less fearsome than before. _To think, an entire war fought to dethrone one disastrous king, and now another has taken his place._

The throne room itself was empty, although it wouldn't remain that way for long. She felt a pang of sadness to see that the dragon skulls had been taken down. How she had loved to play around them when she was a child, with Viserys chasing her every which way.

She wondered if Robert Baratheon had removed them because he simply hated the sight of them, or if they unnerved him; to stare into the empty skulls of such magnificent beasts, and knowing that he could never even hope to dream of such power.

Rhaenys approached the Iron Throne slowly, feeling the weight of the moment heavily on her shoulders. She would be the first Targaryen in over fifteen years to see it again. Without Dalin's presence beside her, she doubted she could do it.

"It is yours, My Queen," the shade said quietly. In her peripheral vision, he bowed his head, and extended his arm in a gesture towards the throne.

"Not yet." Finally standing before it, she reached a hand out, touched the cold metal curiously. "First we have to take the city. Overthrow the vile creatures that see fit to seat themselves on it. Then – and only then - will it be mine."

Dalin raised his head, concentrated on a spot too far for her eyes or ears to detect. "They approach," he told her, following her up the steps and standing beside the throne.

Now she could hear them. She did not look up, while the footsteps and the voices drew closer. Even as they entered the room and she addressed them, she did not lift her eyes from the throne.

"Did you feel anything, Lord Tywin? When they presented you with the bodies of my brother and my imposter, did you feel something?" They were talking again, likely ordering guards be brought in to arrest her. She did not let them stop her. "Did it give you pleasure, to know that you'd slaughtered children to grasp for power that was not yours, only for it to be taken away when Robert Baratheon was the one to sit on the throne?"

Turning to face her lifelong enemy, she said, "Did it fill you with horror, and fear, to know that you hadn't killed me that night? That every day I lived was a day that you could not count on your next breath?"

Being faced with her adversary for the first time in so long brought a grin to Rhaenys's face. Lord Tywin did not appear panicked, did not seem to bear the weight that the war had cost him. But to see his face, to see into his eyes, reminded her that she was oh so close to finally getting her vengeance.

"Princess Rhaenys," he said in greeting, deceptively calm.

"Queen," she corrected him smugly. "It is Queen Rhaenys now. I would prefer you address me by my proper title, Lord Tywin."

"The only monarch the realm recognizes is King Joffrey Baratheon." It was Cersei Lannister that pronounced this, stepping up beside her father, a sneer twisting her features.

For just a moment, Rhaenys experienced a flash of pity for this woman, who had suffered so much and gained so little. This woman that had fought so hard for this throne and the power accompanied with it, only to watch as it was stripped away. A moment, and then the pity was gone.

"That is a falsehood, and we all know it. House Martell, House Tyrell, House Stark, House Greyjoy, House Arryn, House Tully, what remains of House Baratheon – all recognize House Targaryen as their rightful rulers. It is only you, House Lannister, that remains in rebellion."

"And yet the war still rages on," Lord Tywin told her. The sound of guards approaching hardly registered in her mind, though she saw the satisfaction on the faces of those in her presence.

She hummed without giving him an answer. Instead she began to back up, until the backs of her legs hit the metal of the throne. With a smile she sat, crossed one leg over the other. She leaned against one arm of the throne and rested her head against her hand.

"My army sits outside of King's Landing. Oh yes, I know you're aware of this," she added in reply to both Tywin and Cersei Lannister's attempts at interruption. "We've caught most of your scouts, let the others go. You know just as well as I do that you cannot hope to beat us should we decide on a full-scale assault. Your only hope would be to finish my grandfather's work and burn the entire city to the ground."

She stopped, stared down to study the faces of those before her. Tywin Lannister, old and grey, yet still strong and proud. Too proud. Cersei Lannister, beautiful and haggard, hungry for power that would never be hers. Joffrey Baratheon, a stupid boy that wanted power just the same as his mother, but unable to get it for his own self.

She would take pleasure in their deaths, these people that had caused her so much agony and loss.

"You have no power, no army, no _claim_. Joffrey Baratheon is no more a Baratheon than I am. A Lannister, through and through. A bastard." She tilted her head down, smirked at them to hide her ever terrible hatred.

Not that they weren't aware of this. But this meeting would go so much better without any more of her open hostility.

"We will take the throne, the city. _How_ is up to you, my lords and lady. We can assault the city, fight over it, and kill hundreds in taking back what is ours. When we reach the Red Keep, you all will be arrested. The three of you will be executed. Your other bastards, Myrcella and Tommen, will be allowed to live the rest of their lives in peace at Casterly Rock. With time, we may allow either of them to take the lordship, and establish House Lannister once again. They would have good matches, and we would see that they are treated with respect.

"Or, you can surrender now. My army will enter the city, take over your corrupted City Watch, and restore House Targaryen as rulers once again. You will all be tried for your crimes. Whether you are executed or exiled is a decision to be made by the gods. Myrcella and Tommen will again be given their own choices, but you may be alive to see it. Consider carefully; this is a better option than you gave to any of those that you have slaughtered in your quest for power."

By now the guards had entered the throne room, and awaited a command from Lord Tywin. He appeared thoughtful, seeming to be mulling over the ultimatum she had provided him with. His daughter and her bastard, on the other hand, did not seem so inclined as to entertain her offer.

"Father," Cersei said, her expression alight with anger, "you cannot be considering anything this _whore_ -" she directed at Rhaenys, turning her head so that Rhaenys may see the hatred the other woman held for her, "-has said. You know she is lying, and would sooner kill all of us than give us a chance at-"

"Quiet!" A single word and Cersei Lannister had withdrawn. Again, the spark of pity Rhaenys had felt earlier emerged, and disappeared just as quickly.

Rhaenys was surprised that Joffrey had been quiet during the whole affair. All that she had heard of him told her that he was prideful, angry, selfish, and mad. A monster, the Starks called him. Yet the boy remained suspiciously silent.

Of course, she couldn't help but taunt him.

"Nothing to say, Joffrey?"

She laughed when he bared his teeth at her. She laughed again when she saw how angry it made him. He looked a second away from throwing a tantrum like a small child that had been told no.

"Nothing to say to a dragonspawn slut. I heard you spread your legs for your brother," he sneered, appearing proud of himself for his insult.

Instead of getting angry, and giving him the reaction he wanted, she tipped her head back with a sultry laugh. "Oh of course I do. I'm sure if you had a cunt, and were married to a man such as my brother, you would too."

His face became instantly red, feeding her amusement even more. He opened his mouth to say more, but she spoke over anything else he would have said.

"And you can mock the Targaryen tradition of marrying brother to sister all you want, Joffrey _Baratheon,_ even while you of all people have no high ground to stand on." When he was obviously taken aback, Rhaenys gawked in awe between Cersei Lannister and Tywin Lannister.

"Mother, what is she talking about?" Joffrey asked his mother in one of the most petulant tones Rhaenys had ever heard. Cersei had not been listening, again attempting to convince her father to immediately kill Rhaenys, and brushed off all of Joffrey's questions.

"You mean you didn't know?" She said it loud enough that it caught both Cersei's and Tywin's attention again, yet she ignored them in favor for Joffrey. "Because your _Uncle_ Jaime has been all too willing to share the truth with us. I'm surprised no rumors have reached you."

"What rumors?" Joffrey nearly yelled in his anger.

Rhaenys bit back another laugh. "Why Joffrey, you didn't know that your uncle was fucking your mother, his own twin sister? That your father is not Robert Baratheon; rather, he is Jaime Lannister?"

And she did laugh when Joffrey first turned on his mother, who stood completely still in her shock, to his grandfather, whose contemplative expression had morphed to one of fury. With one last look at her, Joffrey regarded the guards that still awaited orders and shouted, "What are you waiting for? Kill the bitch!"

"I take it," Rhaenys said, rising from the Iron Throne, "that you are rejecting my offer to surrender?"

"Kill her!" Joffrey screamed.

With a shrug, Rhaenys swung her head to the side and called out, "Dalin!"

Immediately, the shade appeared beside her. All others in the room froze. Someone muttered "magic" but Rhaenys did not bother to identify the source.

"Yes, my Queen?"

She smiled at him. "Lord Tywin has kindly rejected my offer at peace. I think it is time we returned to our army, don't you?"

"I couldn't agree more, my Queen." He offered her his arm, and she took it. The guards had gotten over their initial shock and remained where they were, unsure how to proceed.

"It is a shame that we couldn't come to an agreement." Rhaenys was about to tell Dalin to leave, when she stopped, and considered the Lannisters. "And one more thing. You claim the Lannisters always pay their debts. Well, rest assured that you will. After all, you owe me my son's life, and I do expect a rich payment for it."

With a nod, the throne room vanished, and the world was enveloped in black.

 

* * *

 

*** * * * ***

When Rhaenys entered their shared tent, Jon stood over the table in the corner, poring over reports from the army in preparation for the coming battle. With a shake of her head, Rhaenys approached her husband and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Jon, we should go to bed. You will need your energy for the battle tomorrow." He hummed in reply, and did not take his eyes off the paper before him. "Jon," she said, in a louder, clearer tone. She was met with no reply this time, not even the twitch of a muscle.

Rhaenys sighed heavily, and resorted to the only other method that came to mind. Her hand, which had been on his chest - directly over his heart - darted lower to between his legs, grabbed hold and squeezed.

Her husband froze instantly, every muscle alight with tension. She smiled against his shoulder, rubbed her cheek against the same spot. "Jon," she said again, and this time she did receive a response.

"Yes?"

"Come to bed."

"Of course, love."

In no time at all, he had left the many reports and worries of what was to come in the morning, and had shoved all his clothes off his body. He practically jumped onto the small bed they had, so quickly that Rhaenys was left dazed for a moment.

While this had not been her exact intention, she supposed the outcome was just as good.

"Eager, are we?" she asked him, a hand rising to her shoulder to start pushing her cloak away. She walked closer to the bed, but did not lay down with him. She stopped just out of his reach from where he lay, which would force him to come to her if he wanted to help.

One shoulder was bared, then the other, and her cloak was pooled around her feet. The dress was Dornish in style, with more of her skin shown than covered. She could tell Jon appreciated it, if the way his manhood stirred was any indication.

She cocked her hip, placed a hand atop it, and smiled down at her husband. "Are you going to lay there? Or are you going to help me get undressed?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, he was standing up again, closing the space between them quickly. He crushed her body against his, slotting their mouths together in a kiss. His hands explored her body, searching desperately for a way to get her dress off without ripping it. He had done that once, on accident, and while the night had been enjoyable after that, he had still felt plenty guilty at seeing the torn material the next day.

His lips traced her skin down to her jaw, sucking a mark between the bone and her throat. Rhaenys swatted at his head, and he only ducked lower, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the skin of her neck.

"Jon, maybe you should put more focus on getting my clothes off before you mark me all over like the wolf you are." The words held no bite, only amusement, but a growl escaped from Jon and he leapt to action immediately.

Suddenly he had spun her around, and Rhaenys was left disorientated as he pulled her close once more. She knew that he was pulling at the laces of her dress to get it undone, but all her awareness had focused in on the hardness pressed to her backside.

A smirk gracing her lips, and she began to grind her hips back against his. She savored the deep groan that escaped from him, releasing a gasp of her own as the hand he had used to brace her against his body reached up to her breast and began to massage the soft flesh.

Her nipples, hardened already, were obviously seen through the thin fabric of her dress. Even as she realized this, her husband's fingers took a nipple between them, pinching and rolling to the edge between pleasure and pain.

"Jon," she gasped her voice already hoarse. "Jon, take my dress off so you can get inside me."

Her words must have gotten to him somewhere through the haze, because he set out to accomplish the task he had been given before which he had hopelessly neglected. He pushed the dress down, past her hips and to the floor, where it joined her shoes and her cloak.

They walked backwards, where their small bed awaited their presence. Jon stepped out from behind her, and with his hands on her shoulders, pushed her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"Jon?" she asked him, watching him curiously. His answer was to go down to his knees, where his head was almost level with her breasts.

Cheeks alight, she understood exactly what he planned to do. They had done this before, once or twice, but not often enough that she became used to the idea. Still, she made no move to stop him as he leaned down to kiss his way over her belly.

The lower he got, the more she could feel her own arousal growing. When he finally reached the dark curls between her legs, he looked up into her eyes, as though asking for permission.

A nod, shaky and small. "Yes," she murmured, twisting his hair between the fingers of her right hand.

He needed no more telling; immediately he was pushing her legs farther apart and descending on her cunt.

He used his fingers to spread her open, and his mouth latched onto the little nub of pleasure that he had discovered their first night. He gave it a suck, the feeling racing up Rhaenys' spine until she had to let out a small whimper, her head tipped back and her eyes closed.

He repeated that motion, again and again, his tongue dancing across it occasionally and forcing her back to arch against the feeling. The noises falling from her lips became consistently louder and louder, until she was sure all in the camp could hear. Not that she cared much who heard their lovemaking anymore.

When his focus was gone and he had moved on elsewhere, it was to push his tongue and one of his fingers inside of her. Her walls clenched around him, and her legs, which had already been wrapped around his head, squeezed even tighter. Her hand was still tangled in his hair, pulling on it with every little wave of pleasure she rode.

Soon enough he was adding more, until he had three fingers inside her, stretching her apart so he could fit. He had long since removed his tongue, but kept his head lowered to give more attention her nub.

Before she knew it, her walls were clenching down hard on his fingers, her cunt drenching them as her eyes screwed shut. She cried out, nearly falling over with the intensity.

Removing his fingers, he deemed her stretched enough to take him. He maneuvered them farther up the bed, resting her head against a pillow. He kissed her, slow and deep, and he did not break it even as he pushed into her.

Overwhelmed, he stopped once he was sheathed inside of her. Jon's head fell to her shoulder, breath harsh while he adjusted. Although she was a bit oversensitive from having come once already, it hardly registered in her mind, and Rhaenys peppered little kisses along his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his lips.

Once he was ready, he took her hand in his and pulled all the way out, until only the tip of his manhood remained inside. With a thrust of his hips, he was pushing back into her, forcing a moan from her throat.

"Gods, you feel good," he managed to gasp out, burying his face into her neck. Even as he mouthed at the skin, his hips continued to thrust into her. Her hands had found their way onto his back, and her nails dug into his skin every time he pushed in a little deeper, a little closer to the spot that had her nearly screaming.

Rhaenys chuckled, before the sound was cut off as he found what he had been searching for, and her head was thrown back in a wordless cry.

With every hit to that spot, she was dragged closer and closer to the precipice she had already fallen off earlier. All too soon, the pressure was too much for her, and she was falling again.

The way she clenched down onto him had Jon following not long after, muffling a shout into her mouth, and spilling inside of her.

It had been so long since they had made love with this much energy, and so long since they had simply been together in this way, that they both found themselves worn out from the brief, though pleasurable, experience.

When their heartbeats had calmed enough, and they were no longer panting into one another's skin, Jon pulled his manhood out from her, and rolled onto his back. The bed was hardly big enough for the both of them to lay shoulder to shoulder, so Rhaenys threw a leg over his and curled into his side. Her head rested on his heart, each beat a comforting echo in her ear.

"You should sleep." She lifted her head once she had broken the silence, ensuring that he heard her. Jon shrugged in reply, pulling her closer to him.

He kissed the top of her head, nestling his cheek against her hair. "Or we could wait, and go again." The rumble of laughter in his chest was joined by her own, though soon enough she was facing him in complete seriousness.

"Jon, you need rest. The battle is tomorrow and you can't be falling asleep when you conquer King's Landing."

"I won't be falling asleep, I swear." He took her face between his hands, pressed their foreheads together. "I will go to sleep now if you want me to. But I will be plenty awake tomorrow."

Rhaenys sighed, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. "So you promise me that you will return to me in one piece?"

Instead of answering, he kissed her again, on her mouth, long and slow and reassuring. When they had broken apart, he said, "I swear on all the gods that nothing will keep me from returning to you."

Against her better judgment, she smiled. "I will hold you to that."

*** * * * ***

 

* * *

 

The day came surprisingly gray, the air heavy with the approach of rain. Ominous whispers spread through the camp, and those from the North felt a prickle of unease in their hearts.

_Winter is coming,_ they whispered to themselves. _Winter is already here._

Jon sensed it, too. It was a common sight for the more northern regions, but not for the Crownlands. And by the looks of it, the weather promised a heavy storm to come.

Rhaenys remained asleep in their bed. She had been exhausted by the events of the day before (and the night, although he tried to keep that out of his mind when he had more important duties necessary to attend to) and when he had risen early, he could not bear to wake her.

Even as he dressed and lifted the entrance to their tent, he could tell that the camp was alive already. The men prepared themselves for the battle, and some regiments had already been sent out to make ready for the coming conflict.

He had found Ghost sat outside the tent, resting beside his two Kingsguard. Both knights had greeted him kindly, and Ser Barristan had followed him as he made way to where his remaining commanders would be waiting.

"An interesting day for a battle," he remarked, inclining his head toward the soldiers they passed.

"Indeed, Your Grace." Ser Barristan remained a step behind, but walked on Jon's left side for easier means of conversation. "It is not often King's Landing sees such unusual weather."

"Perhaps it is a sign." His suggestion was met with a huff of laughter, the mood lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps a great storm will push the waves of Blackwater Bay over the walls, and my enemies will be washed away in its current."

"That would be a remarkable turn of events, Your Grace. It would certainly be easier than invading the city."

"Yes, it would."

When they reached their destination, few lords remained. Robb and Oberyn awaited him at the head of the table, conversing quietly. Noticing his approach, they rose from their seats to greet him.

He returned the courtesy, delving into business immediately. "How close to full preparation are we?"

"Stannis and the fleet are awaiting the signal near the mouth of Blackwater Bay. Ser Garlan and his troops are ready and accounted for. We are mostly waiting upon the third force, as a few of the men are in less than ready condition. Their replacements are nearly organized," Robb told him, tapping at each section of their army when he reported their status.

Jon withheld a groan upon hearing that their third and final force was not prepared. While the other two forces were also important, the third would likely be the catalyst for turning the tide of the battle in their favor.

Stannis and the fleet would attack from Blackwater Bay, in a similar manner as the man's previous attempt to take the city. Ser Garlan and more than half the remaining forces would then charge the front gates of the city, stretching the defenders thin in their haste to defeat the enemy. Their third force would aim for the least defended section of the walls and begin to climb over. Once their army had made it into the city, by whatever means, Jon, Daenerys, and Rhaenys would fly to the Red Keep on their dragons, and would capture those leading the enemy force.

"See to it that they are ready," he ordered Robb. His cousin left immediately, carefully evading all other persons in the tent in his haste to follow the command.

Jon shifted his attention to Oberyn, who had long since returned to lounging in one of the chairs at the table. "Is there anything else to report?"

"None," he was informed with a chuckle. Oberyn rose from his seat and clapped both Jon's shoulders. "You should go get yourself ready, Your Grace. Won't be too much longer now. And you should see my niece before you leave."

He smiled at the man, grateful at the opportunity to return to his wife. Since the Eyrie, they had been terribly reluctant to leave each other's sides. He would be glad to spend as much time with her as he could.

When he had dismissed his men, he returned to his wife. Rhaenys was sat upon the bed when he entered, already dressed in a soft dress. She smiled when she saw him, though it was tinged with a sadness that he knew well.

"I was worried that you had gone already," she told him as he sat down beside her. "I thought I hadn't had a chance to see you before you had left. And then I realized Ghost was still sitting outside and I knew that neither you nor that ball of fluff would leave without the other."

He kissed her mouth softly, running a hand through her hair. She wore it down this morning, past her shoulders and free from the confines of any tie. "You know I wouldn't leave without a goodbye kiss. It would bring bad luck upon us."

"Hmm, really? Bad luck, you say?" Her hand cradled his cheek, pushed their mouths together in a deeper kiss. Jon sighed into it, gripping the back of her head and slipping an arm around her waist to keep her closer.

*** * * * ***

A moment passed like that, and another, and another, before Rhaenys placed her hands on his chest and used that to push him away. "Jon, you are leading an attack on King's Landing this evening," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady even as his hand descended below her waist and under her dress.

"Yes, I am aware." His words were muffled from where his face was pressed into her neck, planting kisses and small bites everywhere he went.

"And while I certainly have no issues with continuing this," and she had to stop for a moment, a gasp escaping from her lips because Jon had found the right spot with his fingers, the one that had her toes curling into the sheets, "you should also be preparing for this matter. Your men will be- _Oh!_ – expecting you very soon."

While she had been speaking, he had moved them so he sat on top of the bed, and Rhaenys straddled his hips. He sighed, and pulled back to peer at her face. His eyes roamed over her before they met hers, and he said, "Then I suppose they'll just have to wait."

*** * * * ***

 

* * *

 

The stench of burning flesh pervaded the air. The screams themselves had stopped long ago, but it was the smell that still remained.

Jon might have gagged on it, had he not found some small part of himself taking a perverse sort of pleasure in it. There was a fire burning in his heart, fueled by the loss of those he loved dearly. He knew his sister and his aunt both welcomed it, knew that the rage boiled their blood in the same way his did.

The time for reckoning had come, and they had awaited it for too long.

The resistance at the Red Keep had been pathetic. Faced with the sharp teeth and the hot breath of not one but three dragons had resulted in those less loyal to their lord and more loyal to their own lives running as far away as was possible before being captured by the Targaryen forces awaiting them. The rest had stood their ground, however dutiful, but none could stand against dragonfire.

Jon dismounted the cream dragon, Viserion. Though they all reacted well to him, this one seemed to like him best. Jon himself perceived a connection similar to that of Ghost, able to stare in the beast's eyes and _know_ that it was his.

Daenerys had naturally ridden Drogon. The black dragon was more in-tune with his aunt, fierce and dangerous and wild. The only rider it truly listened to was Daenerys.

Rhaegal had belonged to Rhaenys from the start. The moment the green dragon had laid eyes upon her, it had showed a personality protective and affectionate enough to rival that of its own rider. The name, too, appeared to hold great meaning with the two. Daenerys had explained that she had named the green one after the brother that she had never met, and the way that Rhaegal sometimes watched Rhaenys, or looked into her own gaze, made Jon wonder if perhaps some part of his father wasn't in the dragon.

As Jon watched, his army poured into the Red Keep, with Robb and Jaime Lannister leading the charge. Standing beside his dragon, he had never felt as victorious as he did then. The last force standing between him and the throne was all but vanquished and soon his family would be avenged.

Rhaenys and Daenerys followed his lead, both descending from the backs of their dragons. Neither of them wore armor, seeing as there were a hundred men between them and any threat, and Dalin watched over them from the shadows.

He faced them both, noticing the way they appeared just as ready for battle as any of the men following their command. Powerful, regal, and beautiful. The sudden, overwhelmingly feeling of gratitude Jon sensed at the sight of the two of them brought a smile to his face. Where would he be without Rhaenys? And how could they have come so far without Daenerys?

"Love?" Broken from his daze by Rhaenys's careful hand shaking his shoulder, he could only stare down at her in a mix of awe and happiness.

"We did it," he whispered. It was enough to nearly bring tears to his eyes. More than a year of war and a decade of hiding, and it would finally be over. "We did it."

She smiled sweetly, laying a hand on his cheek and kissing his lips chastely. "Not yet. First we have to kill those responsible for our suffering."

Her words grounded him, reminded him that although the battle had been all but won, it was not over yet. At least, it wouldn't be until the Lannisters had paid for their crimes.

"You're right." He returned the kiss and stepped away, turning some of his attention to Daenerys, too. His aunt had been inspecting some far away point, and when she acknowledged him as well, her face was blank. She'd been trying not to intrude on an intimate moment, he assumed, which would do no good. As strange as the idea still was to him (yet he was not at all against it), they would have to marry eventually, and it wouldn't be right for her to feel like she didn't belong. "Let's go."

Inside, they were escorted by several of their guards to the throne room. The heavy sound of wing flaps they heard from outside while the doors closed told them that their dragons were off to their own business while their riders took care of theirs. Hopefully it would not be too much trouble to get them to return.

Reaching the throne room brought Jon face to face with the enemies that had haunted him all his life, and for the first time since Winterfell, a life that seemed as though it had taken place in a dream. And, he realized belatedly, this was the first time he had ever laid eyes on the throne itself.

The Iron Throne was a mess of swords, melted down into the shape of a chair. Even from this distance, he could clearly see the sharp edges that made up a few of them, and a tendril of worry had him wondering how often he would cut himself on it. Assuming, of course, that he didn't decide to just melt the entire thing down and have a new one commissioned.

_A new throne,_ he mused, _for a new reign._

At the foot of the great throne, forced to their knees at sword point, were his enemies. Tywin, Cersei, and Joffrey Lannister; all the others that had held power in King's Landing he had been told were either dead or imprisoned already. These three were the only ones that remained to see judgment passed.

"It has been so long since I've last seen your faces," he said, and his words echoed in the near silent cavern of a room. "I have waited for this day for a while, _Lannister._ "

He did not specify which of them he meant, the impact of which he did not care about. They were all responsible for the crimes committed against his family and the realm. All of them were to blame, and he wouldn't dream of a singling one out.

They stared at him in varying degrees of silence. Tywin's gaze was hard and cold, accepting of what was to come but defiant until the very end. There was a very real fear in Cersei's quivering form, and she seemed mere moments away from begging for her life. Joffrey couldn't appear to decide whether he was angry or scared; his body language expressed contempt as his eyes bled terror.

Jon continued. "I gave you each a chance to surrender. I provided you with merciful terms, which would have allowed all of you to live the rest of your lives in peace. And you threw them out. My mercy only extends for so long, and the time has since passed."

He was met with silence again. Either they still hadn't figured out their fates, or they knew it was inevitable. Whatever the reason, Jon pushed on.

"Among your very numerous crimes, you betrayed two of your former kings. You murdered Elia Martell, and attempted to kill her children. You killed Eddard Stark in cold blood. You _murdered my son,_ Eddard Targaryen,when he was little more than a month old _._ And when you refused to answer to justice, the realm was thrown into a war and now countless others have died!"

He paused, willing himself to calm down in the face of his adversaries. He had been on the verge of shouting near the end, having become terribly emotional at the mention of his son. Even if they were his captives, he would not give these Lannisters the satisfaction of watching him lose what little control he had in their presence.

Taking a deep breath in, and feeling the calming presences of the two women beside him, he said, "I gave you a chance and you squandered it. Your crimes are extensive, and even if I had not been personally affected by such things, there is no punishment that can be given to any of you other than death."

The moment their fates were finally laid out in the open, made obvious for all to see and understand that these three before him would be executed, they began protesting.

"You cannot do this to me!" Joffrey screamed, battling against the hands that held him down. "I am the true king, you cannot have me executed. I will take your head off, Targaryen!"

With a tilt of his head, Jon had two of his men stuff a bit of cloth between Joffrey's teeth and tie it behind his head. The younger boy's eyes widened in shock before he continued his attempt to fight, all the while shouting muffled insults and threats through his gag.

When Jon met Tywin Lannister's gaze, those old green eyes were consumed by a burning hatred, but also – and to this Jon frowned in confusion – a sort of grudging respect. It was strange to believe that he had earned not only Tywin Lannister's hate, but his respect as well.

"May your reign be long," the old lion said in a low voice, so low that Jon was forced to lean in to hear. "Until someone else decides it is their right to be king and stabs you in the back."

As Jon drew back, away from the silent former Hand of the King, he could not help but allow a grin to settle on his features. "Thank you, Lord Tywin. Your prayers bring me great honor."

A sob brought his attention to the final Lannister, who had crumpled to the floor and was reaching desperately across the room. "Jaime," she cried imploringly, her hand lifted forth as tears fell from her eyes. "Jaime, please."

Until that moment, Jon had not noticed the way in which Ser Jaime had hidden himself in the back, near the doors they had entered from. Now he saw that Jaime had been clearly trying to hide himself from the remains of his family. Jon understood completely; while Jaime knew the wrong-doings of his family, it was hard to watch as they were sentenced to death, and even harder to watch as they were begging for him.

Cersei continued to cry out for him, struggling weakly against her bonds, for what little it did her. Jon finally took pity on her (though it was very little, and with Jaime in mind rather than Cersei) and approached his loyal knight of the Kingsguard.

"Ser Jaime?" he asked him, conveying the choice he was giving the man through his eyes and his words. The knight seemed to understand clearly enough, his own gaze becoming unfocused as he thought option he was presented with over.

The decision did not take long. Within a short moment, Jaime had met his eyes again and gave a small shake of his head. Jon reached out and placed a hand on Jaime's shoulder. "I am sorry," was all he said.

When Jon turned around, it was now to face Rhaenys. His wife was watching him, observing the silent conversation he had initiated with their knight. She understood as well, and looked away from him to address the guards that held the prisoners.

"Bring them outside. To the courtyard," she commanded. Her voice echoed loudly in the throne room, and Jon believed it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

Their captives were dragged out the doorways, kicking and fighting the whole way. They were left in the middle of the courtyard, their guards stepping away from them. The other soldiers had formed a rather large circle around them, giving the center plenty of room for the punishment they knew would come.

Appearing as if summoned by the thoughts of their riders alone, the three dragons flew over the area once and promptly returned to land. Dust was kicked into the air from their wings and the ground shook as they landed.

Jon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys stood closer to their dragons and their captives than any of the others. Rhaenys grasped his hand, and when he looked at her she was not smiling, but there was a victorious glint in her eyes. "We did it," she mouthed at him.

In reply he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. She placed a hand on his chest and leaned her head against his shoulder. Together they watched as Daenerys met the eyes of the three dragons.

The courtyard was silent but for the heavy breathing of the dragons and the shouts from the trembling prisoners. The dragons looked to their mother, awaiting her command, their muscles coiling in anticipation.

" _Dracarys,_ " Daenerys commanded, and dragonfire erupted from the mouths of the three beasts, consuming the prisoners, the screams drowned out in their deafening roars.


End file.
